Losing My Religion
by snapesgirl21
Summary: Re-released. After a final break-up with Morelli, Stephanie seeks out a new job and a new city for a fresh start. But she didn't expect that Ranger would also be looking to change his life. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: According to Google (because I'm a northerner and we don't say that up here), the phrase 'losing my religion' refers to losing your temper or being at the end of your rope. It's also an awesome song by REM, which is going to be inspiring the titles of the chapters.**_

People in the movies always seem to experience transformations in themselves after life-and-death moments—escaping a serial killer, walking away from a major accident unharmed, a loved one suddenly dies. I've had plenty of life-and-death moments in the last few years, but none of them seemed to cause any noticeable change in me. I just bounced back up like one of those blow-up clowns after it has been hit by a five-year-old, a stupid smile on my face while I resumed the position I'd been holding since I'd started working in bond enforcement. My love life hadn't been quite as predictable. Whenever I'd gotten too close to Ranger, it was like someone hitting me so hard that the weight in the bottom shifted and kept me lying on my side. Work would have to be done to help me get upright once again. Morelli and I had metaphorically knocked each other down a few times over the years, but we eventually found our way back upright and together. It had just happened recently, in fact. Morelli had knocked me over when he had broken up with me after sex, telling me that he needed to find a new job and make other changes in his life that would be easier done if he were single. I'd been hurt and angry, confused by his behavior. But then he told me the truth over dinner at a lovely restaurant in Trenton. He had been concerned about his health because of all of the digestive trouble he had been suffering over the years and had been poked, prodded and had lived through dietary restrictions for a month until he was informed he had an intolerance to xanthan gum. It hadn't been his crappy job, my crappy job, my affiliation with Ranger or my penchant for finding trouble. It had all been a food additive. It was almost laughable.

Almost.

We had laughed about it at dinner, but after a big meal, drinks and a round of satisfying sex in the bed where he had broken up with me less than two weeks before, I wasn't finding it funny anymore. In fact, it was down-right infuriating. Morelli was snoring softly in the bed next to me, oblivious to the fact that I was sitting up and glaring at him.

Was I honestly going to be with someone who had spent _years_ blaming me for his indigestion? And what was almost as bad—worse, possibly—was that he had been scared that he might have cancer or some other major health problem and rather than discussing it with me he just cut me out of his life all together. I'd been prepared to accept a proposal from him the night that he ultimately broke up with me, but could I honestly see myself doing that? Could I get past this? It had always seemed like Morelli and I were destined for matrimony, but was it really what I wanted? I'd already been through one bad marriage and had been young enough—and thankfully, kid-free— to get out of it. Morelli was already thirty-six and I was soon-to-be thirty-four. If we got married, children would be a sooner-rather-than-later occurrence. Partly because of biology, mostly because of societal and familial pressure. My sister had already provided my parents with four granddaughters and was about to pop out another girl in the next few weeks. I hadn't had extensive pressure to have children because my parents wanted to become grandparents, but there would always be pressure from both sides to produce children because it would require us to have more stability in our lives. I had never been sure if I wanted to have children, mainly because I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep them alive. I was lucky to have kept a hamster going for as long as I had.

How could you love someone and keep them so cut out of your life? Both of the men in my life seemed to do that, but at least Ranger and I weren't in a relationship. When you were in a relationship with someone, it was expected that you would include them in important stuff. Over the past week and a half, I'd been hurt because it seemed like Morelli didn't want me anymore. What hurt now was the knowledge that he didn't trust me enough to tell me about this. Not even the concern that I would say something to anyone—his mother and grandmother apparently already knew about it— but trusting that I could be supportive. That even if he had been seriously ill that I would have stood by him. Was that a reflection of his feelings for me? He could barely manage to stick with me when I was a bounty hunter, but I was healthy and able to bring him a beer and have sex.

I climbed out of bed and turned on the flashlight app on my cell phone to help find my clothes. I was pulling on my pilates pants when Morelli woke up.

"What are you doing?" he asked groggily.

"I'm leaving," I replied tersely.

"Is there a problem?"

I left out a huff of air and turned to face him. "Yeah, there's a problem. You broke up with me— _after sex—_ and lied to me about why you were breaking up with me. You thought you were really sick and you didn't tell me about it. You just went on and on about changes and told me not to date Ranger."

I was pacing next to the bed at this point, the Italian side of my genetics taking over control of my hands. "And what's worse is that you've spent years blaming me for all of these problems instead of going to get them checked out by a doctor when they wouldn't go away. How in the world do expect us to be in a relationship when you won't tell me this stuff?"

Morelli turned on the bedside lamp and climbed out of bed. Even naked, he looked intimidating as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You don't tell me things all the time, Stephanie. You get into dangerous situations with criminals without telling me. You run out of money and have to eat at your parent's house or risk getting evicted and you never tell me. And I could probably fill the Grand Canyon with the things you don't tell me about you and Ranger."

I stuck my hands on my hips and prepared for a long battle. "You're a cop, Joe. Sometimes I can't tell you things because they might be illegal and I don't want to put you in that position. And I don't need or want your money. I make my own money and things aren't that desperate. I've gotten better about it. And as for Ranger, there's nothing to tell. We're friends and we work together sometimes. That's it. But you won't believe me."

"But it hasn't always been that. You've slept with him as recently as a year ago to my knowledge because I caught you with him in Hawaii."

"You didn't _catch us_. We were working."

"Working, my ass. When I mentioned that I was looking for you, the hotel staff tried to get me to wait until your trip was over. Apparently you two were making quite an impression on the housekeeping staff with the number of condoms you were going through every day and they didn't want me to disturb the _happy couple._ "

I stumbled around, trying to find a suitable rebuttal, and came up with nothing. "Whatever. But that was last year. After that, we talked about things and got through it. We weren't totally committed—we had agreed we could see other people. But that's getting away from the point. You hate it when I even bring up Ranger and there's nothing to talk about. I haven't slept with him since Hawaii."

I didn't figure there was any point in the bringing up the times when I'd almost slept with Ranger. According to Grandma Mazur, _almosts_ only counted with horseshoes and hand grenades.

"My point is that you don't trust me, and I don't think you ever will. Not with my job, not with Ranger and apparently not even with your health. So I'm done. I'm through with this relationship and you, Joe Morelli. Just because we've known each other forever and everyone thinks we should be together doesn't mean it has to happen. We should be with people we can trust."

I grabbed my bag and walked out the door, less indignant than I had been the last time, but still frustrated and hurt. I also couldn't walk as well because of my injured knee. I probably looked pathetic, but I didn't care. At least I'd been the one to end it this time. And he had been the only one naked.

I hobbled through the rest of the week on my knee as measly bonds came through as FTAs. Ranger's SUV was still helping me out, though the checks on the earnings from Blatzo and Gobbles had cleared my bank account. I was just waiting for the weekend before I got a new car. I knew Ranger wouldn't mind if I kept his SUV until then. He had his 911 Turbo and a bunch of other fleet vehicles. No one had known that Morelli had wanted to get back together, so I didn't have to break the news to anyone that we'd briefly reconciled before breaking up again. That was a relief, although it didn't stop my mother from telling me that I should apologize for whatever I had done to make him break up with me so that we could get back together. She didn't understand why I didn't want to be with him anymore. If someone had told her fifteen years ago that she would be eager for me to be in a relationship with Joe Morelli, she would have told the person to bite their tongue in half and swallow the pieces before she made the sign of the cross and threw holy water on them.

Morelli hadn't let up either. He called at least once a day and would send me text messages saying he was sorry, that he understood why I was mad, would I please call him. I ignored the phone calls and deleted the text messages. I was tempted to block his number completely, but held off.

I spent my boyfriendless evenings binge-watching _Gilmore Girls_ while browsing the internet. I was tired of bond enforcement. I was tired of the unpredictable pay, having to work seven days a week, getting caught up in situations that put me in mortal danger. And I was so tired of the Burg, its gossip, and its inhabitants. The last part had been the most difficult to admit. While I did love the Burg and its people, I was tired of being smothered. It was annoying to constantly be on my guard because Mrs. So-and-So might see and call my mother, who would head for the liquor cabinet or ironing board—depending on the time—and would spend dinners moaning about her youngest daughter, the embarrassment of the family. The world was bigger than Joe Morelli, the Burg, and my family. So I started thinking about the kinds of jobs I would be able to do anywhere. The problem wasn't going to be finding a new location: there were twenty other counties in New Jersey, forty-nine other states in the United States and one hundred and ninety-four other countries in the world. Not that I planned to leave the country, but I wasn't going to totally rule it out. The problem was finding jobs within my skill set. And figuring out exactly what my skill set included.

I had been a decent lingerie buyer in the past, but it didn't excite me to think about going back to it. I had recently ruled out pastry chef or anything to do with food. I didn't know much about kids, so childcare of any sort was out of the question. My bachelor's degree—and my 2.3 GPA—was in sociology. Why I had studied sociology was still a question I hadn't answered. I guess it was because my roommate in college had been a sociology major and I figured it would be easier if we both were taking the same classes. She had gone on to get her Ph.D. in sociology and was teaching at some college in Switzerland. I wish her motivation had been contagious.

I took a quiz online that asked me random questions to determine what skill sets I possessed. It figured I must be good at math because I can mostly solve a crossword puzzle so I could become an accountant and that because I can speak to large groups of people without passing out or peeing my pants that I would be a good teacher. Helping people skills earned me predictable responses such as coach, counselor, or social worker. None of those things interested me.

The problem was that I was a bit of a thrill-seeker. I liked to live on the edge, but didn't want to completely fall off. Having some structure appealed to me, but I also wanted my independence. I didn't want to have to wear formal clothing all the time or be trapped in meetings for hours on end. I wasn't ambitious or financially stable enough to open my own business, though I couldn't say what business I could have run even if I possessed those things. Being a private investigator appealed to me, so I considered trying to get hired on at one of those. But I feared the pay might be similar to what I made in bond enforcement both in quantity of dollars and predictability as to when the money would come in.

Perhaps location was a better place to start. If I could figure out where I would like to live, then I could start looking for whatever jobs were available. I didn't like snow, so I wanted to head to warmer climates. Florida, maybe. But Florida had a lot of hurricanes and humidity. I thought about Georgia. Atlanta was a nice place; but as unfair as I knew it was I couldn't get the sound of the dueling banjos from _Deliverance_ out of my head. I thought about California, but it was too expensive. Arizona was nice, but there were lizards and rattlesnakes. The same reasons ruled out New Mexico. I wouldn't look good in a cowboy hat so Texas was out. And Utah seemed a little too conservative. I shut my laptop and gently beat it against my forehead. How could I not know myself well enough to figure anything out?

"Problem?"

I nearly jumped out of my seat to find a slightly amused Ranger walking into my living room. He was dressed in a black suit with a black shirt open at the collar. Like he had just left a dinner meeting with an important client.

"Geez, I didn't hear you come in," I said, taking a seat as my pulse started to slow down.

"I need the Cayenne back. I left you with one of my fleet vehicles," he said.

"Thanks. I'll find something this weekend so you can have that car back."

"You've got that look, babe," Ranger said, taking a seat in the arm chair across from me.

"What look?"

"The one that says you're standing on a ledge and looking down."

I blew out a sigh as I pulled my feet up onto the couch and laid down. "I'm sick of my life. I want to move away to a place where there isn't any snow and people haven't heard of me and get a new job that isn't bond enforcement. Or anything to do with preparing food. Or watching children. And won't require me to go back to college. And I can't find anything I'm good at that sounds remotely interesting to me that has steady pay and allows me to be somewhat independent."

"Sounds like an existential crisis."

"Tell me about it. How did you know you wanted to get into private security?" I asked. "Or that you wanted to go into Special Forces?"

"I didn't know that I wanted to be in Special Forces until I'd been through basic training and someone recommended I go to Ranger school. I just knew the college thing wasn't for me and I decided that the military was a better option. I didn't know what I would do or if I'd like it. I just took the chance. Private security appealed to me because it tapped into skills I already had and having my own company allows me the independence that is a natural preference for me."

"My problems start with not knowing what skills I have and just keep going from there," I replied.

"You're intelligent, observant, good with people, a decent shot, and kind," Ranger said. "Those are good skills to have, Babe."

"Those qualities apply to a lot of people. They all have different jobs. Career-building websites want me to be an accountant, coach, social worker or teacher. I'd be terrible at all of them."

Ranger got up from his chair and came to sit next to me on the edge of the couch. "You've gone through these phases before. They always seem to pass."

I shook my head. "Not this time. I'm sick of living in a bubble. I want to get away from Morelli, and I need to get a job where I'm not constantly getting cars destroyed or attracting stalkers. If I didn't have my family to rely on for vehicle loaners and meals, I know I would have left this job years ago because I couldn't have made it on my own."

"What's wrong with Morelli?"

"He broke up with me because he thought he was sick and didn't want to tell me about it, but he's not sick and he wanted to get back together. But how can I be with someone who doesn't trust me enough to tell me things?"

"He probably just didn't want to worry you until he knew something for certain. He had enough of his own stuff going on. He didn't want to worry about you worrying about him added to it," Ranger said, running a hand along my side as he did.

"Is that why you don't tell me things?"

"Sometimes. A lot of the time, probably."

I pushed myself up and scooted away from him. "Men."

"And women," he countered. "I have to go. But if you're serious about this, I have a job that I think would be a good fit for you."

"Thanks, but I can't spend my days running background checks or watching computer monitors. I'll die of boredom. Or because I pestered one of your men too much and he shot me."

"It wasn't what I had in mind. I had three men threaten to quit after you worked in the office the last time. It's actually a position at a private school in Miami. A lot of important people send their children there and we have a pretty heavy security detail in place. Google the Menendez Preparatory Academy in Miami. If you think you might be interested, I'll take you down there to see the place and give you more details on what the job would entail."

He placed a kiss on my lips and left.

I sat on my couch for about thirty seconds after he left before opening my computer and googling the Menendez Preparatory Academy. I had ruled out Florida because of the humidity and hurricanes, but lots of places had humidity. And if it wasn't hurricanes, it would be tornadoes or mudslides or droughts or blizzards that wreaked havoc. I told myself to look at the place with an open mind and clicked on the link to the school's website.

 _ **A/N: This story is going to have Stephanie and Ranger both going down difficult paths. There may be times when they seem out of character, but trust me that it is part of the plot and stick with them. Thanks for reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2

I spent the next few days mulling over the idea of working for Ranger in Miami. The Menendez Preparatory Academy was heralded as one of the most prestigious private schools in the country. The campus was beautiful, the staff diverse and highly educated. The students were considered some of the best and brightest. Its graduates went to the Ivy League, became Rhodes Scholars, and two had even won Nobel Prizes. It sounded intimidating to someone who had barely made it into college and graduated with a GPA only slightly higher than the stoners. I had worked for Ranger in the past, but only on short-term jobs that had generally fallen on the eccentric end of the spectrum. This was a serious position and he thought I could do it.

I made the mistake of mentioning to my family that I was considering a different job while at dinner on Sunday.

"But why?" my mother asked. "I thought you liked that job. And just as I'm beginning to understand why you do it."

"My beauty parlor needs a new receptionist," Grandma Mazur said. "Josie Barnes was the old one, but she had to quit on account of she kept forgetting to write people's appointments down and Marla was triple booked for three days straight."

The ability with which I managed to repress a shudder was so admirable that I felt I deserved some sort of medal for it.

"Stephanie doesn't want to work at your beauty parlor," my mother said. "She's too young for that place. She should try to get a job up at First Trenton Bank. I heard they need tellers. That's a respectable job with benefits."

"Banks are all crooks," my father chimed in, surprising us all. "She should work at the GM plant. It pays good, gets overtime every week, has good insurance, and it's union."

While my parents and grandmother argued over the merits of their own suggestions and trashed the others, I shoveled in my lasagna and downed my wine. I wanted to get out of there.

"As much as I appreciate the help, I've already had a job offer that I'm going to look into," I said, pushing my plate away and walking into the kitchen for the cookies that were intended for dessert.

"Where? Does it pay well? Does it have health insurance?" my mother asked excitedly. So much for her being supportive of my career in bond enforcement.

"Yes, it pays well and has health insurance. It's actually a job with Rangeman doing private security at a boarding school." 

"Oh," my mother said, clearly conflicted about how to feel. On one hand, security at a boarding school was likely to be fairly tame, but I'd also be working for Ranger. My mother worried about my connection to Ranger. She worried that he might maim my eternal soul by dragging me into crime or by getting me pregnant and refusing to marry me. "That sounds nice. What school is it?"

"It's called the Menendez Preparatory Academy. It's in Miami."

That caused everyone to whip their head up and around to look at me. "Miami? As in Florida?" Grandma Mazur asked.

"Yes, that one."

"Miami sounds fun and _sexy_. I bet you'd meet a bunch of hot guys down there. I've heard there are a lot of gay guys in Miami. Is that true? I saw a picture on the internet once of these guys who only wear these little things to cover their privates at the beach. I think they were called a c-string because they only had a band on one side," Grandma Mazur babbled, looking excited. "Maybe I should move to Miami. These winters are starting to get to me."

"Why would you want to move to Miami? You don't know anyone there," my mother said, and I swore there were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. Oh no. If my mother cried, I'd cry, then Grandma Mazur would cry and then my father would slit his throat with his knife. It would be a disaster.

"I haven't said yes to it," I said quickly. "Ranger offered it to me and said that we could go to Miami so I could check it out if I thought I might be serious. I'm going to tell him I would like to see the place and get a feel for it. It doesn't mean I'm taking it, but if I like it I probably will. I need a change. I want to get away from Morelli." I wrapped two cookies in a napkin and stuck them in my messenger bag. "I've got to get going. I need to talk to Ranger."

I waved goodbye and hurried out of the house before my mother could knock me out with a table lamp and lock me in my old bedroom with a flap on the door to shove food through three times a day. Earlier in the day I had purchased a ten year-old Buick from one of my elderly neighbors. He couldn't drive it any longer and didn't want it being sold by a car salesman, so he gave me a great deal on it with the promise that I would take care of it. He clearly was senile considering he made no mention of my track record with cars, but I didn't mention that because the price, its pristine condition, and the fact that it had less than thirty-thousand miles on it was too good to pass up. I had driven the Rangeman Honda Civic to my parents' house with the intention of dropping it off at Rangeman after dinner and hopefully catching a ride back home.

I pulled into the underground garage fifteen minutes later and parked in space number nine, as designated by the tag on the key ring. I made sure there weren't any fast food wrappers laying around before I got out and headed towards Ranger's apartment on the seventh floor. I stood in the foyer once I got off the elevator and debated about whether to knock or let myself in. I had a key and Ranger had once told me that he wouldn't have given it to me if he'd felt he needed any privacy, but it still felt awkward sometimes. House keys were intended for people in a relationship, which we weren't. We avoided discussing the fact that whatever type of relationship we did have extended beyond friendship, into romantic love, but stopped short of any sort of commitment. Ranger didn't have the time or space for commitment in his life. He was married to his personal demons and Rangeman was his child. His best friend was also his second-in-command at work. I figured I fell somewhere on the spectrum between toy and friend with benefits. If you don't count the fact that the benefits had been few and far between.

I was spared the need to make a decision because Ranger opened the door and startled me.

"Sorry, were you leaving?" I said quickly.

"No, the front desk called to say you had come up and were standing in the foyer."

Duh. I was on camera from the time I entered the building until I stepped into the apartment. I'd probably looked like an idiot. How long had I been standing there?

I followed Ranger into the apartment and was greeted by the smell of garlic and spicy peppers. There was classical music playing softly from the living room.

"Am I interrupting something?" I asked, worried that I had walked in on him entertaining a woman, even though Ella had made it clear to me every time I had spent the night at Rangeman that she enjoyed having me around because Ranger never had any other women over.

"I just finished dinner," he told me. "I was about to clear the dishes when I heard you were standing at my door talking to yourself."

"I wasn't talking—," I stopped, realizing that he was teasing me. I punched him in the arm, which made him smile.

He offered me a glass of wine and we took our drinks into his living room. The music was emanating from a channel on the television. The lights were dim, somewhere on the spectrum between _let's get it on_ and _hungover high school student trying to hide it from the parents._ He turned down the sound on the television until it was a faint background noise, but left the lights alone.

"I wanted to see if you were serious about the job in Miami," I said after taking a large sip of wine.

"I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise," he said.

I had figured as much. Ranger never said anything he didn't mean.

"I'd like to see the school and the Miami office and get a feel for whether I would fit in there. As much as I've talked about wanting to get away from Trenton, it freaks me out to think of leaving my family and friends and everything I've ever known."

"I'm flying down to Miami on Tuesday night. I have meetings all day Wednesday and Thursday. But I can extend my trip to take you to the school. You could spend the days I'm in meetings exploring the city and getting an idea of how the Miami office operates. It's a bigger city than Trenton, so the office has to work differently."

"That sounds great," I said. "I've never been to Miami, so I'm looking forward to it."

"Bring the red dress," Ranger said, running a finger along the nape of my neck. "I'll take you to dinner at my favorite restaurant one night."

"Is it appropriate for the red dress?"

"The red dress is appropriate anywhere."

I let Connie and Lula know that I'd be out of town for a few days, but didn't give them all the details. I told them Ranger had a job for me in Miami. I just didn't say that it would be a permanent one. I didn't want Vinnie replacing me until I was sure I was going to leave. He'd probably have Joyce Barnhardt and her fake boobs in the office before Ranger and I made it to the airport.

I spent Monday packing my suitcase with a variety of clothing, including the red dress. I figured I was going to be in Miami so it wouldn't hurt to wear it out one night. I contemplated whether or not to pack some _protection_ in case things got intense with Ranger, but thought it likely that he would have some with him. When he had shown up in Hawaii a last year, he had been sure to bring an ample supply. Not that we had used them every time…

I had my suitcase packed and supplies gathered for Rex's stay at my parents' house when Ranger and Tank arrived at three Tuesday afternoon. Ranger knocked once on the door before he opened it. He stood for a minute and looked at my luggage.

"I thought you were just going for a few days to get a feel for the place. I didn't know you were planning to move this week," he said, picking up the suitcase by the handle rather than using the wheels like a normal human.

"You think you're being cute, but it's hard to know what to pack. And certain outfits need certain shoes."

"Babe, you wear jeans and a t-shirt ninety-percent of the time."

"But I'm going to be in Miami. I want to blend in by wearing cute summer dresses and bikinis. Plus, I need to look nice when I check out the school. And you insisted on the red dress." I pointed out as we hit the button for the elevator. I knew if he'd been alone, Ranger would have just taken the stairs.

"Forget I said anything. I'm just grateful you brought the red dress."

I was laughing when the elevator door opened and Morelli appeared. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He had a five o'clock shadow and bags under his eyes. He looked as surprised to see us as we were to see him.

"What are you doing here, Joe?" I asked.

"I was coming to talk to you. Where are you going?"

"To Miami."

"Why?"

"It's none of your business." I replied calmly, pushing myself past him into the elevator. Ranger followed silently and reached over to hit the button for the first floor.

"Is he going with you?" Morelli asked, jerking his head in Ranger's direction.

"Yes."

I saw Morelli clinch his jaw. "We've been broken up less than two weeks and you're running off on vacation with Ranger."

"Have you met Ranger? He doesn't take vacations. It's work," I said. I shifted Rex's cage to my left hip just in case I needed my right hand to punch Morelli in the nose.

"Yeah, that's what I heard about Hawaii."

Uh-oh. Ranger and Morelli were in very tight quarters. This was not the time to bring up Hawaii. I didn't have my stun gun on me. And my priority would have to be Rex until the elevator doors opened up on the first floor and I could get him safely out of the way.

Thankfully, the elevator doors slid open onto the first floor and we all got out.

"Why haven't you called me back?" Morelli asked as he followed me to Ranger's Cayenne.

"Because I don't want to talk to you, Joe. How hard is that to figure out?"

"Can't we work this out? It's not like I cheated on you. In Hawaii."

Ranger had put my suitcase in the back of the car and was headed to the passenger seat.

"We need to get going, Babe," he said, placing a hand on my hip that I knew had only been done to goad Morelli.

"I'm not having this discussion with you. I'm going to Miami to check out a job. Ranger is going with me because it is at his company. If I like it, I'm going to move down there. I don't care if you like it or not. I'm no longer your problem. You, your acid reflux, and your xanthan gum allergy can kiss my ass," I yelled. I yanked the back door open, slid gracefully onto the backseat, and put on my sunglasses as Tank pulled away from a shocked Morelli.

What really happened was that I hit myself in the head when I opened the door too hard, struggled to climb in carrying Rex's bulky glass cage and had to eventually step out and slide it across the seat before I could get in and shut the door. It didn't quite have the same effect. I could hear Morelli's voice, but not what he said as Tank pulled out of the lot.

"Thank you for not killing him," I said to Ranger. "I would have felt really guilty."

"We would have missed our flight," he replied. I thought he was joking, but it was always so hard to tell.

We arrived in Miami around nine that evening after an uneventful flight. I dozed off about halfway through it and woke up to find my head on Ranger's arm. I had only drooled on him a little, thankfully. A tall, skinny Rangeman employee was waiting for us at the airport after we hit baggage claim for my suitcase. We silently followed the man out to a parking garage and climbed into a black Escalade. It could have been a Rangeman car from Trenton. The only difference would have been the license plates. We drove east through the city towards the coast. Ranger had informed me that his office was located in an area called Brickell. Wikipedia told me it was known as the financial district and that there were numerous consulates located in the area. This was high-rent and Ranger likely provided services to a number of businesses and residents in the neighborhood. We pulled up to a ten-story building on one of the smaller roads along the river and into an underground parking garage. The Miami operation was clearly a lot bigger than Trenton, as the parking garage was two levels and with the exception of about ten spaces reserved for visitors it was filled with black cars and SUVs. Some of the spaces were empty, but had numbers to correspond with their license plates. We pulled into number fifteen and climbed out. I pulled out the extended handle on my suitcase and wheeled it to an elevator. Ranger gave me a look and shook his head.

"The wheels are there for a reason," I informed him.

"To help your biceps atrophy," he replied. I resisted making further smart ass remarks in front of the other guy. If I was going to work for him, I couldn't be seen doing something that other employees wouldn't be allowed to do.

The Rangeman guy got off on the fourth floor and we proceeded to the penthouse. Like in Trenton, access to Ranger's personal apartment required the use of a key fob. The elevator doors opened up to a large foyer with glossy, beige tiles. The lights were low and the only piece of furniture in the area was a small table that held an interesting, abstract sculpture in blues and greens. There was a dark cherry door directly across from the elevator and a metal door next to the elevator that likely led to the stairwell in case of emergencies.

Ranger's apartment ended up being a lavish, two-story affair with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided a spectacular view of the city. I imagined during the day that there was also an excellent view of the ocean. The main floor was open concept and the décor was neutral and modern, but in lighter tones than his Trenton apartment. There was a staircase that led to the second floor, which was easy to see from the main floor because of the glass half-wall that lined the hallway. Ranger's office was arranged in an open loft area. There was a set of double doors set off of the office and three other doors visible further down the hall.

"This place is amazing," I said as we moved further into the room. I could see a kitchen along the furthest wall with gleaming stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops. A dining area that seated six sat in a corner. "Why don't you live here all the time?"

"I've considered it in the past," he replied. "I'm still considering it someday."

We headed upstairs and went to the master bedroom, which had been behind the double doors. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows along one entire wall. There was a walk-in closet and enormous master bathroom on the opposite wall. The bathroom was more luxurious than the one in Trenton. It had a glass shower and a deep soaker tub with jets that could easily fit two. Ranger had deposited my suitcase in the closet and was watching me explore the bedroom.

"Is there another bedroom?" I asked. "This place seems pretty big for just one."

"There's another one down the hall with a similar set-up, but it's smaller. There is also a room that was supposed to be my office, but I preferred to use the loft for work. It's now a small guest room. My family stays here if they are visiting. My grandmother doesn't live too far from here."

"So, I don't need to share your room?"

Ranger tilted his head slightly. "Technically, no. But it's no fun sleeping alone."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. Sleeping next to Ranger was always a pleasant experience. Sleeping _with_ Ranger was always magical. But it wasn't the time for that.

"I just broke up with Morelli," I said. "I need to keep my head clear."

"We've shared a bed plenty of times without it going any further than sleeping. I can keep it in my pants."

"You sleep naked."

Ranger grinned and walked out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_**There will be multiple chapters from Ranger's POV in this story (Stephanie isn't the only one who hops on the Hot Mess Express). I'll be sure to indicate which chapters are Ranger chapters. This is one of them.**_

I will be the first to admit that I'm not the most demonstrative person in existence. I don't see any point in trying to pretend otherwise. I have never been one to talk much about anything. As a kid I had trouble making friends. I was small for my age because of being born prematurely, and my straight hair had resulted in me being confused for one of my sisters until I was in middle school. I was constantly teased by my peers, so I quickly learned to be suspicious when people approached me. Eventually I learned that I was fast and that I could fight as dirty as others, which appealed to a crowd that I knew I shouldn't hang out with, but my desire to accepted by anyone my age had won out. When I got locked up in juvenile detention while the rest of crew that had been involved in the car theft had gotten away, I became bitter because I felt like I had let my guard down once again. The bullies had just beaten me another way.

Moving to Miami with my grandmother after a year in juvie had been a fresh start for me. There was something about the nice weather, the palm trees, and culture that had been able to change the way I saw the world around me. It had made me more positive, able to accept that not everyone in the world was a total shit. It also came at a time when I had finally started to physically catch up with the boys my age. I realized that girls found me attractive and I learned how to use that to my advantage. I also learned how to read people better, since I was no longer clouded by cynicism. Miami changed me. I credit living there with where I am today. If my parents hadn't sent me there, if my grandmother hadn't scared me shitless about what she would do to me if I stepped out of line, I likely would have been successful in a darker kind of life. Probably not drugs—that was never really my thing—but I could imagine myself in smuggling or high stakes theft. I think I would have still gone to the military, but would have come out of it differently. So when Stephanie told me she needed to change her life, Miami was the first place that came to mind.

The security positions at the school were held to higher standards so I didn't just put anyone in there. Per our contract, any member of security had to be vetted by the school before they could be placed into the position. No convictions of any sort were accepted and the school expected to have access to their file to see what sort of employee they were. We were three years into a five-year contract and the head of the school had been very happy with our work. She no longer requested to do her own vetting on the team as long as I was personally appointing them because she knew I would only put in people who could meet the school's standards. We had experienced a few who hadn't worked out, but she hadn't blamed that on me. We had been attempting to find a woman to put in place at the school for the entire time we had been in place, but the two we had managed to find had both only lasted a few months. The first one had lasted one semester. She ultimately left Rangeman all together to move back home to Louisiana. The second one was good at her job, but ended up getting pregnant by one of the men on the security team during a one-night stand. He hadn't believed it was his baby and I had ultimately removed both of them from the school after they had a screaming match in the parking lot. I had moved him to a patrol position, which he ultimately quit after a month. I had offered the woman a desk job until after her baby was born, but she chose to quit on the spot. I was thankful that they both left. It had caused me briefly to consider implementing a clause about not dating in the workplace, but women were a rarity in our company and the clause would mean me either not employing Stephanie at all or limiting my involvement with her. I wasn't willing to do either, so I let it go.

Stephanie had the skills needed for that environment: sociable, observant, and able to blend into the crowd. The security staff don't wear Rangeman clothes, but business casual that makes them difficult to distinguish from the rest of the staff. The thought behind it is that security can appear less threatening and catch anyone attempting to be hostile off-guard. Granted, it wouldn't take much for someone to determine who was a member of security if they did their research, but it still gave us an advantage. Plus, big, bulky goons don't blend in with the rest of the school.

I liked the idea of her in Miami. Not only because I'm a jealous fucker who wants her as far from Morelli as possible, but also because people don't know her in Miami. The risk of her getting kidnapped, shot, or held hostage would be significantly lower than they were in Trenton, though still higher than the average person because she is Stephanie Plum, the woman who gets involved in situations that would be best left to more qualified people. It also had me thinking about relocating. I had initially made the decision to keep my base of operations in Trenton because my parents were in New Jersey. My parents had retired and moved to Florida along with my paternal grandmother two years ago. They now lived in the same neighborhood as my other grandmother. The reason I stayed in Trenton after they headed to Miami was Stephanie. When I met her three years ago, I never anticipated the impact she would have on my life. She had been an attractive woman who was out of her league trying to be a bounty hunter. But she had surprised everyone with what she had accomplished. She has surprised me even more with the way she had shaken up my life. Falling in love with her—or any other woman—hadn't been in my plans. I'd kept my distance, tried to respect her own boundaries when she threw them up and found myself being worn down by it all. I wanted to be with her. I wanted to marry her, have children with her, buy a house and grow old with her. But every time I thought I could even get close to head down that path, I was reminded of all the things that would stand in the way. I had almost asked her to marry me when we had been in Hawaii together last year. We had been staying in a resort under the guise of a married couple while trying to apprehend an FTA and we had been sure to remain in character both in public and private. If Morelli hadn't shown up, I may have actually gone through with it.

But I was hesitant to move to Miami right away, if she did indeed take the job. I wanted her to find her own rhythm there. I didn't want to be the one thing she clung to in the new environment for fear that it would create a false sense of intimacy. I would give her a few months to get settled before relocating. I intended to tell her she could live in my apartment until she paid off her lease in Trenton. I could have given her a signing bonus to pay it off, but that was too easy. I wanted the time. I had calculated that she likely couldn't have it paid off until March. That would give her time to get comfortable before I went ahead with what I wanted, which was going to be to ask her to keep living with me. It would give her time to get over Morelli. She had already made it clear that she didn't want me getting too close right now when she was still raw. And as much as I wanted her, I was going to respect it.

I had her spending Wednesday with Mario Pietro, the manager of Miami operations. He would be showing her how this branch operated and explaining the roles that MPA personnel fulfilled when the school wasn't in session. I had meetings all day with various clients; some were negotiating contracts, others were renewing. Some were expanding the services they wanted. I had interviews for two new employees that had passed the initial interviews with Human Resources. Then I had budget meetings starting in the afternoon that would continue into the next day. Stephanie would be spending Thursday with my ex-wife, Rachel. Rachel was a Miami native and would be interested in some of the same things as Stephanie. Namely the things that I couldn't be dragged into at gun point.

"I definitely underestimated your operation here," Stephanie told me that evening as I prepared a cobb salad for dinner. "It's enormous. I can't believe you have four separate control rooms."

"It's easier to have the distinction between residential and commercial accounts," I replied as I prepared the salads in large bowls. "Keeping patrol teams divided between North accounts and South accounts helps keep track of where everyone is at. The office is centrally located so if additional supports are needed, they can come from here rather than pulling from other areas."

Stephanie watched as I added the eggs and chicken to the tops of the salad. I placed a bowl in front of her, put my own next to hers, and put the dressing choices between us. I poured us each a glass of red wine and we sat down to eat.

Unlike Trenton, I didn't have a housekeeper in Miami. I wasn't there enough to justify one. The janitorial staff came up to clean twice a week when I was staying in the apartment and twice a month when I wasn't. The food service manager would stock my refrigerator when I was expected in town. If I wasn't eating in the dining room downstairs, I was preparing my own meals. I enjoyed doing it while I was there. There was something different about being in the Miami apartment. I had never quite figured out what that was, but I knew it wasn't just because I prepared my own meals.

Stephanie and Rachel enjoyed their time together on Thursday while I crunched numbers with accountants until I had a migraine. During the lunch break, I got a call from Rachel. She and Stephanie had enjoyed mimosas for lunch and were subsequently too drunk to be driving around on their own. Neither of them could hold their alcohol very well. Rachel had requested my sexiest employee to serve as chauffeur. I told her that I wasn't available, but that I would get someone out to them. She hadn't laughed, but had told me to hurry up because they had more to do.

Stephanie and I left for Menendez at nine the following morning. She wore black dress pants, a red sleeveless shirt, and a short black jacket with short sleeves. She looked professional, but approachable. Not to mention sexy, but I was admittedly biased.

MPA was located in Coral Gables near the University of Miami campus. It was a forty-acre campus with all of the buildings located around a large pond. The dorms housed the three hundred-plus students who came from other states and countries to be educated by some of the nation's best secondary teachers. A large number, including my own daughter, were day students. The cost of the school rivaled the Ivy League, but the benefits were considered priceless.

"We maintain a presence around-the-clock when the students are on campus," I told Stephanie as I wove through Miami traffic. "We have three different positions within school security: general security, patrol, and student security. You would be joining the student security team."

"What is the difference between them?" she asked.

"General security is responsible for monitoring the security feeds and manning the door for visitors. They also run random tests on the system to ensure they are working and monitor any situations that could present a threat to specific students or the entire school. They are on campus at all times in order to monitor the dormitories. Student security is responsible for the students during the school day, when high level security students need to leave campus, or while on class trips. You'll patrol the buildings, supervise during passing periods, meals, and school events. You will also provide higher levels of supervision to specific students who are considered at increased risk for kidnapping, health problems, or behavioral issues. Patrol monitors the grounds, grants access to the campus at the gate and is back up for general security."

Stephanie blew out a breath. "That's a little overwhelming."

I reached over to squeeze her hand. "You'll be fine, Babe."

We were met by the head of the school, Dr. Angela Turner, who was going to provide Stephanie with a tour of the grounds while I added input as needed. I watched Stephanie as she walked side-by-side with Dr. Turner, asking questions, being personable and genuine. I could tell Dr. Turner was impressed with the way Stephanie thought and with the questions she asked. I knew Stephanie was self-conscious of the fact that she had grown up in a strictly blue-collar neighborhood, had attended public school, and had never shared the academic ambitions that this crowd did.

"I _really_ like Stephanie," Dr. Turner informed me two hours later as we sat in her office. Stephanie was with the head of school security to talk about the day-to-day routine. "She is friendly, professional, and warm. The students would love her, but I get the feeling they wouldn't be able to get much past her."

"I agree. I think she would be an excellent fit. And I have known her for almost four years. I know she is reliable and won't be leaving after a few months." I replied.

"Do what you can to entice her to come here. And let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

I was glad to have Dr. Turner on my side. I wanted Stephanie to come to Miami. I wanted her to take this job and change her life. I wanted her to be happy and I knew she wouldn't find that in Trenton.

I took her to dinner at my favorite restaurant, _Azucar_ and enjoyed our last evening in Miami. We had been seated in a corner booth on the terrace overlooking the river. Stephanie had worn the red dress. I had spent the evening keeping my mind in the present to avoid embarrassing myself. She rolled her eyes as I ordered salmon, asparagus and whole grain rice. She ordered steak and a baked potato.

"Have you always been a health freak?" she asked as she tore a roll from the bread basket into pieces. I hadn't touched it.

"I dated a girl in high school who was into healthy eating. Her family was heavily into organic food and clean eating before it was popular. She was constantly telling me about what sugar and man-made ingredients did to your body. I paid attention and ate clean because it helped me get laid, but even after we broke up I kept up the habit." I said.

"The only things that have ever motivated me to eat well were when my clothes didn't fit," Stephanie replied. "And it only lasted until that problem was resolved."

"The red dress fits well," I told her, running a finger along the outside of her thigh.

"It's too tight."

"That must be why it looks so good."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Men. But you know if I take this job that you have to treat me just like another employee. You can't be groping me or making sexually charged comments."

"I'm aware of that," I said. "When we are on the job with others, I will be sure to treat you just like any other employee because I expect you to treat me the way everyone else does—like I'm the boss."

"But it isn't on the job that I'm worried about. I doubt I'll see you that much," she said. "I'm worried about off the job. I can't be having sex with you when we aren't working and then turn that off to go to work. I've told you before that I have a hard time unraveling my feelings after we sleep together. I know you don't have an issue so it's probably hard to understand, but I need you to promise me that if I take this job you aren't going to be trying to get me into bed anytime you're here. I know your limitations, and I can't accept them because I know I would only end up getting hurt."

I stared at her for a minute while I thought about what she wanted. Part of me wanted to tell her that I wanted to move in with her after she got settled here, but I didn't want to influence her. And I wasn't sure if she would believe me. And living together may not be enough for her. She hadn't expressed a lot of interest in marriage and children, but we were both approaching our mid-thirties, so I knew children would be something in the not-so-distant future for her if she wanted them. The truth was that I didn't know exactly what she wanted—she might not even know for sure—but I knew I didn't want to risk her not coming to Miami. I was certain a change in location was necessary for her to move on with her life.

"Okay," I said. "I can agree to that. I want you to take this job, but I'm not rushing you to make a decision."

That was a lie. I wanted her to tell me now that she was taking the job, but this was a time when the truth wasn't productive.

Stephanie smiled at me and I was overcome with a mixture of emotions. Desire. Love. Sadness.

She raised her wine glass and took a sip. "I really like the school and Dr. Turner. I'm definitely thinking about it. I hate to think of leaving my family and friends. And I have to figure out how I can afford the rent while paying off my lease in Trenton. I just renewed last month and Miami rent is really high. I asked Mario if any of the employee apartments were open, but he said no. He said they are really popular because of the cost of rent and there is a waiting list."

"I had already considered that," I said. "I was planning to let you know that you can stay in my apartment until you find somewhere else. It sits empty most of the time, so it's pointless not to have you use it when you need it."

"But wouldn't that seem like special treatment?" she asked.

"Babe, everyone knows we are friends. I would let Tank live there if he were moving to the Miami office."

That seemed to help alleviate her discomfort. "Okay, then. Thank you. But I'll make sure I use the other bedroom so I'm not messing up your personal space."

I resisted the urge to sigh. She was serious about these boundaries. And I had agreed to them. But my plans hadn't involved me moving to Miami until sometime after the first of the year, so there was time for her to settle. And if I thought she wasn't ready for me to ask her to live together by the time I had planned, I could push it back. No one knew of my intentions but me.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Now back to Stephanie's POV.**_

Ranger and I returned to Trenton on Saturday afternoon, which meant for me that the bonds office was closed and that I didn't have anything to do the rest of the weekend. I unpacked my suitcase, loaded up a basket for laundry, and did something I had never done in all the years I had lived in my apartment I used the laundry room in the basement. I didn't like to use it because it looked like something from a horror movie where a woman hears a noise when she thinks she's alone, but turns around just fast enough to let out a scream, but not fast enough to move before some maniac butchers her. But I didn't want to go over to my mother's house and have her and my grandmother drilling me on the trip to Miami. I would have to go over at some point to pick up Rex, but he would be fine until then. My family probably bothered him less than I did.

I took a notepad, pen, and stun gun with me when I went to the laundry room. I intended to make a pro/con list about taking the Rangeman job while my clothes washed. I had a feeling if I left the clothes alone that some of my underwear might come up missing. The stun gun was in case of maniacs.

I sat cross-legged on top of the dryer while the ancient washing machine next to me groaned. I wrote _Miami job_ at the top of one page and drew a line down the middle. Pros on the left, cons on the right. I briefly stopped to wonder why people tend to put pros on the left side of the page. After pondering that for a couple of minutes, I realized I was stalling and got back to work. I had to stop at one point to switch loads, but got back to work once the dryer was tumbling beneath me. It took me thirty seconds to realize that it was going to be too distracting to sit on the dryer, so I climbed off and went to sit in the hallway just outside the door. Somehow it seemed like it would be cleaner than the laundry room floor. I used my phone to do some research to add to my list. By the time the dryer buzzed indicating that my first load of clothes was finished, I had an exhaustive list.

 _ **Pros:**_ _Perfect weather year-round; job that has steady income, benefits and rates relatively low on the danger scale without being mind-numbing; the school was really nice; fantastic city; better shopping; beaches are closer and can be visited any time; getting to live in Ranger's apartment for a while; far away from Morelli; far away from the Burg and its nosy neighbors; no criminals would know me; year-round tan; Ranger._

 _ **Cons:**_ _leaving my family and friends behind; not getting to have dinner at my parents' every week; I don't really know anyone there; cost of living is higher overall; housing is astronomically higher; more hurricanes/tropical storms; Ranger._

The pros were more plentiful than the cons, but the cons felt heavier. Ranger had told me to take all the time I needed the position for me wasn't an empty one that needed filled, but an additional one because they had been searching for the right person. I didn't want to rush into the decision, but I also didn't want to wait too long. The head of the school had made it clear to both Ranger and me that she had liked me and hoped I would take the job. It was the last week of September and I gave myself a deadline of my birthday to make a decision.

When I arrived at my parents' house three hours later, it was to find my mother crawling around on the floor, looking under the couch with a flashlight. My father had his feet up on the coffee table while he watched my mother.

"Give it up, Heln. He's gone."

"Who's gone?" I asked, causing my mother to jolt and hit her head on an end table.

"Your hamster," she said, standing up while she rubbed the spot on her head. "He got out of his cage somehow the other day and I've never been able to find him."

I felt my stomach drop and my bottom lip started to quiver. "Rex is missing?"

I helped my mother and grandmother other search the entire house for two hours before we reconvened in the dining room.

"He probably crawled into the walls and we'll hear him scratching around like when we have mice," Grandma Mazur said.

My mother went white. "Oh no. The mouse traps."

I felt like throwing up. "You have mouse traps set? Where?"

My mother absentmindedly pointed to the kitchen. "We've had some in the kitchen lately. I hate using those traps where you have to lift the lever so I bought the ones that are disposable. The trap is in a little box and you just throw it away when it catches the mouse."

I ran into the kitchen and found the trap. It was still activated, so Rex hadn't wandered into it. I let out a sigh of relief. "He isn't in there."

My mother didn't look relieved. "There was a trap that went off the morning after you dropped him off. I don't know if he was missing then or not, but it's in the outside garbage. I hadn't thought about it."

I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. I could go out and dig through the garbage, find the trap and see if Rex was inside, or I could go on forever not knowing what happened to Rex if he never turned up. _You've seen dead human bodies_ , I told myself. _You can do this._

I went outside with the long, plastic gloves my mother wore for cleaning and got to work. I took out one bag at a time and dug through the contents, putting them into a new bag as I worked. I tried not to gag as the smell of spoiled food hit me and I was forced to remove countless used tissues. I had to take moment to block out all thoughts and remind myself of why I was doing this as I transferred an empty bottle of personal lubricant between bags. Didn't want to know who that belonged to, didn't care. It was while digging through the second bag that I found the used trap. It wasn't heavy, but I could tell there was something inside. I took a calming breath as I pressed the lever down and looked into the small opening. I could see something furry trapped inside, but couldn't be sure if it was Rex. I got a butter knife from inside the house and pried open the box. I felt the tears hit my cheeks as I stared down at my late-hamster. I took a couple of minutes to sit with him and debated about what to do. Should I bury him? It had been a dry summer and the ground was hard. It would be difficult to dig a hole deep enough so that animals wouldn't come dig him up and eat him. I told Rex good-bye and that I was sorry for leaving him before putting the box back together and sticking it back in the trash bag.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie," my mother said. I could tell she was close to tears.

"It's not your fault, Mom," I said. "He was kind of old for a hamster anyway. I probably wouldn't have had him much longer."

I glanced over at his glass cage with his hamster wheel and soup can. "You can just get rid of that if you don't think anyone needs it."

I ended up staying for dinner and as an attempt to console me for my loss my mother made my favorite meal. I did my best to show my appreciation for it, but I didn't enjoy it. Losing Rex felt like a kick in the gut after breaking up with Morelli and the possibility of moving away from Trenton. He would have been the only constant from Trenton I would have had with me in Miami. Now the only connection I would have from home would be when Ranger was in the office.

I spent the rest of the weekend at my apartment considering my options and intermittently crying every time I thought about giving Rex a piece of food. I did leave on Sunday afternoon to go to the bakery. It wasn't busy when I got there, so I pulled into the closest spot to the door and went inside. I noticed a blue ribbon on the door and wondered what it represented. Some sort of cancer awareness, perhaps.

The bakery was empty except for the woman working behind the counter. I walked up and waited for her to come over to ask me what I wanted. I had been debating between pre-made birthday cakes when I realized I had been there for about five minutes without her acknowledging me.

"Excuse me, I'd like to get this cake," I said, pointing to a chocolate cake with white icing. The woman, a short, squat brunette around my age, didn't even look up from what she was doing.

"Hello? I need some help," I said loudly. Nothing.

The owner of the bakery came out from the back and opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped when she saw me and continued on with what she was doing.

"Hello, Marla," I said, utterly confused by their behavior. "I want to get this cake."

"You need to go somewhere else," Marla replied briskly.

"Why? I come here all the time. I used to work here in high school."

"Didn't you see the ribbon on the door?" Marla asked coldly.

"Yes."

"Then you should have known."

"Known what?"

But I never got an answer. Frustrated and confused, I left the bakery and drove off to the bakery at the Walmart. It wasn't the same, but it would do. As I drove through the Burg, I noticed there were blue ribbons posted on businesses and houses. There were also black ribbons. A couple of ribbons were blue/black combinations. I spotted a black one tied to a pillar at my best friend Mary Lou's house. I pulled into her driveway and headed up to the front door.

I could hear the dog barking and some kids screaming when I rang the doorbell. The result was that the noise all came running to the door. I could hear Mary Lou yelling at the kids to get out of the way and she opened the door.

"What's with the black ribbon?" I asked before she could say anything. "There are a bunch of blue and black ribbons everywhere in the Burg. I just got refused service at Tasty Pastry because of the blue ribbon."

"Blue is for Morelli, black is for Ranger," she replied, as though I were missing a few million brain cells.

"What?"

"Blue ribbon people think you should get back together with Morelli. Black ribbon people support your decision to move to Miami with Ranger, even though I'm going to miss you and I'm a little pissed off that you didn't tell me in person."

I hit my head on the door frame. "I'm not moving to Miami with Ranger!" 

"You're not? I would," Mary Lou said, closing the door on her noisy house as she stepped out onto the porch. "There are days I'd be willing to go over and offer to do anything and I do mean anything for that sexy man to let me live with him. I don't even care where."

"I went to Miami to look at a job out of his office down there. But I haven't accepted it yet, and we aren't going to be there together. He'll still be living here."

"Steph, this is the Burg. Even if you aren't boinking him, taking a job at his company in Miami will make people assume you are."

"So am I banned from all blue ribbon homes and businesses?"

"I think so. I don't know all of the rules. But you can go into the black ones."

I thanked Mary Lou and promised to tell her personally if I made the decision to move away. I suspected she wanted to come with me just to get away from her family.

I got home with the prepackaged Walmart donuts ten minutes later to find Ranger in my parking lot. He climbed out of his car and took a peek in the bag.

"Not from Tasty Pastry?"

I heaved a sigh. "They won't serve me anymore. What are you doing here?"

He handed a black canvas bag he was carrying. "This mistakenly got packed in my bag."

I looked inside and saw that it was the red dress. "Oh, thanks," I said blandly.

He raised an eyebrow, which was Ranger equivalent to looking shocked. "What's the problem? You look like your dog just died. Or in your case, hamster."

I burst into loud sobs and nearly dropped my bag. Ranger took it from me and set it on the hood of his car before pulling me into him. "Babe."

"Rex died," I wailed. "He got out of his cage at my parents' house and got caught in a mouse trap."

I continued to cry in earnest while Ranger held onto me. He wasn't laughing at me, at least where I could tell, so that helped me calm down. I doubt he understood my attachment to Rex, but at least he was being supportive.

"Sorry," I said as I pulled away to wipe my eyes. "I haven't had to tell anyone else yet. I guess I've had that bottled up."

He followed me upstairs to my apartment and waited while I unlocked my door. I put the donuts in the kitchen, but didn't eat any. I wasn't actually sure if I would. I just hadn't wanted to leave the store empty-handed. I found Ranger sitting on the couch in the living room. He patted the spot next to him and I sat down.

"Are you really this upset over a hamster?" he asked.

"Yes! He was my pet. And if I move to Miami, he would have come with me. But now he's gone," I said, feeling my bottom lip start to tremble.

"You could get another one."

I shook my head. "I thought about it, but I didn't figure you really liked the idea of me having him there anyway."

"Babe, I don't care if you have a hamster."

"I'll be okay," I said. "It was just surprising. I figured he would be sick and stop eating, or that I would find him dead in his cage one day. I didn't expect him to escape and get his neck snapped trying to get a piece of cheese."

"That's how I've always figure Lula would die," Ranger said, and it made me snort. I smacked him on the chest with the back of my hand.

"How did my red dress get in your bag?" I asked, looking for a subject change. "Did you take it home and do perverted things to do it?"

"Babe, if I'm doing perverted things to that dress it's only because you're in it."

"You resisted Friday night."

"Because you wanted me to. It wasn't easy."

I almost made a comment about hard things, but didn't. I was flirting with him a little bit and I didn't want it to get too far. If I ended up working for him, I needed to keep myself in check. I scooted away from him a little bit, but he put his hand on my leg to stop me from moving too far.

"Babe, you aren't working for me yet."

"I know, but I don't want to be influenced."

He gave me a look that told me I probably didn't want to know what he was thinking. He picked up my hand and kissed it.

"Have you been thinking about the job?"

I nodded. "I made a pro/con list and put it on the refrigerator. I figure if I keep looking at it that it will help me make a decision. I've put a self-imposed deadline of October twelfth on myself."

It took me a minute to realize what he was doing when Ranger walked into the kitchen. I scrambled after him and tried to get to the list before he could. He got to it before I did. I saw a smile play on his lips as he read.

"I'm mentioned in here in both columns."

"You're surprised?"

"Would you miss me or be glad to be away from me?" he asked. It took me a minute to overcome a small lump that had formed in my throat at the way he had asked the question.

"I would miss you. I may not miss you stalking me all the time, or trying to get into my pants every time you see an opportunity, but I would miss not seeing you as much."

He put the list down on the counter and pressed his body into mine. He kissed me tenderly, one hand on the base of my skull while the other was on the small of my back. The kiss almost felt sad, as though he was saying goodbye to me for a final time. The intensity of the kiss grew the longer it lasted and I could feel Ranger getting hard against me. He surprised me when he picked me up and wrapped my legs around him. He carried me to my bedroom, not breaking our kiss. How he managed not to run into anything astounded me. I was breathless by the time he threw me down on top of the blanket and started pulling off my pants. I was about to tell him that we should stop when he ran his tongue up my inner thigh until it found my clitoris. All coherent speech was gone after that. He was taking off his own pants as speech found me once again.

"Did you bring condoms?" I asked through gasps.

"No."

"I don't have any."

Ranger halfway inside me when he stopped and started to tease one of my nipples. "Is that a problem for you?"

I was distracted by the feel of him. "I don't want to get pregnant again."

The word _again_ had sprung from my mouth before I could stop it. I think my heart skipped a bit at the shocked look on Ranger's face. And it was actual shock not just the Ranger-equivalent. I felt him pull out of me and he sat up on the edge of the bed. I sat up too, fully aware that I wouldn't be able to get out of this conversation.

"When was it?" he asked after a few seconds of stunned silence.

I felt Ranger's eyes burning into me, but I couldn't stand to look over at him. "It was when we were in Hawaii last September. I found out a week or so after we got back. I didn't know what I was going to do or how to tell you or Morelli."

"What happened?"

"I was chasing a guy through his apartment building about a month after I found out and fell down two flights of stairs. Then he kicked me in the stomach when I tried to get up. I was alone and he got away. I was walking back to my car when I felt blood start running down my leg. I went to my gynecologist, and she told me I was having a miscarriage. I had to go back in a week later so she could confirm it was gone."

Ranger was so still I had wondered if he had he stopped breathing. He was staring at the floor, lost in his own thoughts, and I could see a muscle in his jaw twitch slightly. We sat like that for several minutes, the only sounds being Mrs. Karwatt's television coming through the shared wall and the honking of a horn on the street outside. It had been so quiet and still that I had nearly jumped out of my skin when Ranger stood up. He didn't look over at me as he pulled on his clothes and tied his shoes.

"Ranger ," I began, but he stood up and headed towards my bedroom door without looking back.

"We'll talk about it later," he said as he left the room. I listened as the front door clicked behind and fell back on the bed.

I had never told anyone about being pregnant by Ranger. I had been stunned when I found out, but had done my best to convince myself that it could be Morelli's. I had done my research, consulted ten different websites about pregnancy and had received the same results. There was no way I could have gotten pregnant by Morelli after getting back from Hawaii. It had been too close to my period being due. Plus, we had used a condom. Not that they were fool-proof, but they were pretty safe. There had been a five-day window during which every site that told me I had likely gotten pregnant and all of them fell right in the middle of the Hawaii trip. They had also coincided with the day Ranger and I had gone out on a drive around the island tailing our FTA, had stopped at a point overlooking the ocean, and had gotten busy in the car sans condom.

I started feeling nauseous about a week after I found out and spent the rest of my short-lived pregnancy avoiding food around other people. My breasts had gotten so tender that I had nearly screamed when Morelli touched them. And I had felt disgusted with myself whenever I had slept with Morelli, knowing that Ranger's baby was growing inside me. After three weeks of misery, I had decided to go tell him. I'd shown up to his place at one in the morning because I hadn't been able to wait any longer. But he hadn't been there. The guys in the control room later informed me that Ranger was in Boston for the week. I had gone home feeling stressed that I hadn't been able to talk to him, but resolved that I would talk to him as soon as he got back. It was a conversation that needed to be held in person. But I had never needed to have it. I had gotten knocked down the stairs two days before he was due back.

I showed up at the bonds office the next morning with bags under my eyes. I hadn't been able to sleep, worried about what Ranger was thinking and missing Rex as company.

"You don't look like someone who just spent time in Miami with Ranger. You look like you've been kicked around the block." Connie commented when I walked in. There was a black ribbon hanging on the door and I ripped it off, tossing it onto her desk.

"The trip was fine. It's everything since then that has sucked." I commented. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Okay, then," Connie said. "But I'm not sure if this is going to make your day any better or not. You've got a new FTA, and its Morelli's brother, Anthony. He skipped out on bail for a drunk-and-disorderly charge."

Crap. The last thing I needed right now was to have to go through the Burg looking for a Morelli. I took the file and grimaced as I read it. "Have you called everyone under the sun first?"

"Yeah, and no one wants to say they've seen him."

"Why don't we let Lula have it? I'm thinking of taking a permanent job in Miami for Ranger, so she needs to get some practice bringing in people on her own."

"No way," Connie said. "Besides, you never said anything about the job in Miami being a permanent thing."

I shrugged. "I don't know if I'm going to take it yet. I'm thinking about it."

I signed the paperwork for Anthony Morelli and hitched my bag onto my shoulder. "He's probably hiding out somewhere with a blue ribbon where they won't talk to me. Should be a blast."


	5. Chapter 5

_**This is another Ranger chapter.**_

If asked how well I know Stephanie Plum, my immediate response would be _very well._ Without hesitation. Possibly better than she knows herself. And it hadn't come from a background check either. I knew her morals, personal quirks, sexual preferences, favorite foods, and fears based on the personal relationship I had developed with over the past three-and-a-half years. I could detect the difference in her tone when she lied, the small changes in her body when she was afraid and the smell of her shampoo combined with her personal scent from across a room. I knew every freckle and scar on her body. I thought I knew everything about her. Or I had until she dropped the bomb on me that she had been pregnant with my child for over month, then lost it, without ever telling me.

When I got Rachel pregnant, she had called me the day she had taken the pregnancy test. I had been serving with her brother at the time and she had gotten my number from him. She had sobbed about going to hell, her baby going to hell, how could this have happened because she had been a virgin, her family was going to hate her and so on. Rachel had been eighteen and about to go off to community college for a nursing degree. Stephanie was in her early thirties. But the real difference in why they handled it so differently lay in their personalities. Rachel had never had to take care of herself and had a fairly dependent personality. She had still been living with her parents when she got pregnant and had continued to live there until she married Ron when Julie was two. She had never had a job and I had always been concerned about what would happen if Ron died or they divorced. It was part of the reason why I had continued to pay child support even after I was no longer required. It was an even bigger part of the reason why I had started paying a substantial amount once I had gotten successful enough that Rachel could support herself, Julie, and likely the other two kids if she had to live on her own.

But Stephanie was nearly as independent as myself. She may have occasionally relied on her parents for meals or asked me for extra work, but I hadn't seen that as a weakness. She was determined, did what was necessary and didn't let her troubles overwhelm her to the point that she couldn't function. She had continued on in her life, knowing that my baby was growing inside her, dating a man who didn't deserve her, seeing her friends, and chasing down criminals, one of whom ultimately caused her to lose the baby. Part of me knew that I shouldn't be completely surprised that she had kept it to herself. The rest of me didn't care because I was pissed off. And hurting, which pissed me off even more. Why did it hurt me so much?

Because it was Stephanie, the goddamn love of my life. I had made a child with her. It would have been three-months-old by now; I had done the math after getting home on Sunday. And even though I had always told her that I wasn't ready for marriage and children, I had come to realize that it was something I wanted. And I would have been ready to marry her and become a father as soon as she told me. And I would have been a real father, not just the sperm donor who paid child support and visited on occasion.

She didn't try to call me at all over the next two days, sensing that I needed some space. I appreciated that because it had taken all of my self-control to walk out of her apartment without putting my fist through a wall. I had come home, allowed myself two glasses of wine while I tried to concentrate on work, and later engaged in the rare indulgence of going out with the intention of picking up a woman for sex. I ended up in a hotel bar in Philadelphia because of my rule of not having one-night stands in my business zone. It only took me an hour to secure a woman for the night. She was a pharmaceutical rep who was from the western part of the state. She was in the city for a special training the next morning. Her name was Jennifer, she was a five on a ten-point scale, but she gave good head and hadn't asked a lot of questions. She had informed me before falling asleep that night that she would be in town until Wednesday, but I hadn't gone back. I had given her a fake name, told her I was a contractor from Pittsburgh, and had left before she woke up the next morning. She may not have been Jennifer the pharmaceutical rep either. It didn't matter because the purpose had been served.

I got a call on Tuesday morning from Connie, informing me that she had an FTA for me. After Stephanie's recent encounter with an FTA that had chopped women up into pieces after he had raped them, I had quietly asked Vinnie and Connie to refer exceptionally violent criminals rapists especially to me. They weren't common, but I still didn't want Stephanie to have to go after them herself. When I had seen the body parts in Blatzo's freezer my stomach had turned to ice at the knowledge that she could have been in there had it not been for a well-aimed dildo. I stopped to pick up the paperwork during a ride through the Burg that afternoon.

"Who is it?" Tank asked as I climbed back into the SUV and flipped through the file Connie had given me.

"Tommy No Thumbs," I replied. "Another attempted murder charge and rape. Considering he has skipped out of bail every other time he's been arrested, you would think judges would stop letting him out. Or that Vinnie would quit posting the bond."

"I'm sure Tommy has greased all kinds of palms at the court house. And I'm certain Vinnie's brain has been eaten away by syphilis," Tank said as we drove down Hamilton towards Stephanie's apartment.

As we made our way through the Burg, I saw numerous ribbons displayed on store fronts, trees, or utility poles. Some were blue, others were black and there was a smattering of some that were half blue-half black. I was sorting through my memories to see if either ribbon had any significance around this time of year when Tank let out a curse.

"Damn," he muttered as he slowed down in front of his favorite deli.

"What?"

"They have a blue ribbon on the door."

I looked at the door. "Just because we wear black to work doesn't mean you can't like blue. I even like blue."

Tank sighed and pulled away. "But blue is for Morelli and they aren't going to want me in there. At least while I'm dressed for work and you're sitting outside in the car."

I stared at him until he gave me a sideways glance. "People in the Burg have chosen sides," he said. "The blue ribbons are for people who think Stephanie should go back to Morelli."

"And the black?"

"Should be obvious. They are the people who think she should be with you."

I snorted a laugh. "What got this started?"

"When Morelli told everyone that Stephanie is moving to Miami with you," Tank said.

"But she isn't moving to Miami with me. She's going on her own."

"That's not what people think."

"And the blue/black combinations?" I asked as we passed such a ribbon tied to the front of a beauty salon that looked like it was filled with old women.

"Ménage a trois," Tank replied. I just shook my head.

"People are sick."

"You not into three ways?"

"Not with Morelli. The only person I'm willing to share Stephanie with is Jessica Chastain."

"Didn't you do a protection detail for her a while ago when she was in New York promoting a movie?"

"Yes."

"How was it?"

I gave him a serious look. "I'm a gentleman."

Tank laughed and hit me in the arm. "Fuck that shit. What did she say after?"

"That she would recommend my services to her friends."

"Which service?"

"All of them." I said.

Tank shook his head. "I don't know what you do to women, but you can make any woman want you. And I'm pretty sure you ruin them for the rest of us. You should teach a Master class."

"A Master class in sex?"

"Yeah, like what do you do exactly? They all seem to love it."

"I'm a man and I have a dick. I let it get hard and put it-,"

"Funny. But you can't fool me. I've been all over the world with you. Your sexual prowess is legend." Tank said seriously. "I've always been jealous."

"Pierre Montgomery, I had no idea you wanted to sleep with me." I said with mock surprise. "I figured if any of you men tried to get me into bed that it would be Hector, but I can call you first if I ever think of change teams."

"I hate you."

As we kept driving, I may or may not have kept a mental score card on who had more ribbons. Morelli was a beloved son in the Burg, but I was more popular that I had realized. The count was about even when I felt Tank slam on the brakes. We watched in surprise as Anthony Morelli, covered in what looked like marinara sauce, was chased across the street by an equally messy Stephanie. Tank took off again as we watched them head down an alley. He went around the block to cut off Anthony's path. I opened my door and caught him as he ran right into me.

"Damn it!" he yelled, struggling to break free. I shoved him up against the car and cuffed his hands behind his back. Stephanie appeared seconds later.

"I'm so done with this job," she panted, leaning over to rest her hands on her knees. I could see spaghetti noodles in her hair. I picked a few out.

"Did you tackle him during his dinner?"

"No, I found him in a restaurant with a blue ribbon on the door. People threw their lunches at me as I ran through the dining room after him."

"I told you," Tank said quietly. "They are hardcore around here."

We took Stephanie and Anthony back to her car, only to find the tires had been slashed and the windows broken. I left Tank to deal with her car and drove the pair to the police station.

"Will you be okay going in there?" I asked.

Stephanie nodded. "I'll be fine. Besides, it's the last time I'm going in there. I was serious when I said I'm done this job."

I waited while Stephanie processed Anthony and came back out to the car. She climbed into the front seat and laid her head back against the seat.

"Back to the bonds office or your apartment?"

"My apartment," she said softly. We rode in silence, both of us sensing the tension, but neither wanting to start the conversation we knew we must have in the car. I followed her into her apartment fifteen minutes later and waited in the living room while she took a fast shower to get the sauce out of her hair and change her clothes. She came out dressed in sweat pants and a Douglass T-shirt.

"Is the Miami job still open for me?" She asked.

"Of course."

She fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt. "I wasn't sure after what I told you the other day. I thought you might have changed your mind."

"Our personal relationship is separate from the job." I told her. "I'm not going to let one affect the other."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said after another painful silence.

I took a moment to decide how I wanted to handle it. I hadn't expected to see her so soon, so I didn't have a decision about what I wanted. I could ask for more details and defend myself. I could get angry, talk about love, trust and all we had been through together. Or I could take the simple route.

"I wish you would have told me," I said, opting for the simple route. "Even if you hadn't told me during it, I wish you would have told me after it was gone. But it doesn't matter now and it doesn't change my opinion of you taking the job in Miami."

Stephanie looked surprised by my reaction. I wasn't sure if the small flicker of pain I thought I saw was real or my imagination.

"When could I start?" she asked hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure if we could move on with the conversation.

"Whenever you want," I said. "Human Resources already has all of your information. You'll just update a few minor things once you get down there."

Stephanie nodded and the awkward silence once again filled the room. I could count on one hand the amount of times I had been this uncomfortable with her.

"The company will pay for your moving expenses and give you an advance to cover you until your first paycheck." I said. "Call Mike Hanson down in HR in Miami. He will take care of arranging the movers. You'll have to sign a contract when you get down there then you'll be given your check at that time. We have storage areas in the building. I kept one open for you."

"Thanks," Stephanie said. She looked pleasantly surprised. "But can we talk about something else?"

I assumed she would bring up the baby. "Go on."

"I know you said you don't let work and our personal relationship interfere with each other, but I'm not able to do that. I meant what I said when I told you we can't sleep together if I'm going to work for you." Her voice cracked slightly.

"After the, the miscarriage, I was reading an article in my gynecologist's office about how a baby's DNA makes its way into the mother's blood stream and can alter her organs, even if the pregnancy ends in miscarriage. It made me realize that I would always have a part of you inside me some piece of you may have actually changed me." Stephanie swallowed hard as she kept speaking. "It means I have a connection to you that I've never had with anyone else and it worries me that if we start sleeping together and you still can't give me what I want that it will hurt me so much that I can't come back from it and that I'll lose your friendship. I'm not willing to risk that. So if I'm going to work for you, I need you to treat me just like any other employee. No special treatment, no sleeping together. When you come to Miami, we sleep in separate rooms. No kissing, groping, or sexual contact of any kind. Are you sure you can you agree to that?"

The last forty-eight hours had been intensely emotional and now she was adding to it. She had already made this request of me once, and I had begrudgingly agreed. Demanding it a second time was just insulting. This was why I avoided relationships. It wasn't just because women asked too many questions or had too many expectations. It was because relationships were supposed to make you happy, and happiness was a difficult emotion for me to maintain. I couldn't remember the last time I had been truly happy without a heavy side of anxiety and sadness accompanying it. My time in the Army had taught me that happiness and contentment were fleeting because there would always be something that came along and ruined it. It was the reason why I had never let myself get too happy with her. Because she would always end up back in Morelli's bed or she would say she couldn't do this and push me away. Or she would tell me she wouldn't do something, then almost get killed doing it. Happiness only made me edgier. I had let myself get too happy about the idea of her being in Miami and had let my guard down in the process.

"You'll never be just another employee to me." I said. "But if that is what you want, then I'll respect it."

Her relief at my answer caused another ripple of anger to flow through me. I considered telling her about my plan to move to Miami after the first of the year. I thought of my intentions to ask her to live with me, but I was afraid if I told her that she might change her mind about moving and ultimately end up back with Morelli. The idea of her being with Morelli always bothered me, but now that I knew about the miscarriage I knew it would eat me alive if she went back to him. So I bit my tongue and hoped that I could change her mind with time.


	6. Chapter 6

"Stephanie, are you sure about this?" my mother asked as she helped me pack up boxes in my kitchen.

I hit my head against the cabinet I was unloading. She had asked me this question about thirty times in the past week since I had told her about accepting the job in Miami. I answered it the first twenty times, but told her after that I wasn't answering anymore because the answer hadn't changed. She still asked.

The moving company was coming for my possessions in less than half an hour and we were down to the last two cabinets that needed packed up. My kitchen had the least amount of stuff and had been saved for last. I had to wait until everything was loaded before I could leave the apartment. The building super had told me to just leave the door unlocked and the key on the counter. I wasn't going to miss this place. If it wouldn't land me in jail, I'd set fire to the bathroom on my way out the door.

After making me promise three times to stop by her house on the way out of town, my mother left. The moving company must have passed her in the lobby because they were at my door within two minutes of her leaving. I signed some paperwork, confirmed that everything was being delivered to the Rangeman office in Miami and left them to get things loaded. I was taking two boxes and two suitcases in my car for the drive down and had them sitting separately from everything else. I was just waiting for my car to arrive so I could load them. Ranger had said he was taking care of it after it got trashed by the blue-ribbon crowd.

I didn't have a lot of furniture so it took the two men less than two hours to pack up and be on the way out of town. Ranger had come into the apartment as the last boxes were headed out.

"I was beginning to worry that I might have to hitchhike to Miami," I told him.

"I wanted to wait until you were about to leave."

He took my hand and pulled me over to the kitchen window. "You have the silver Macan," he said, pointing out the shiny new car in my lot.

"Where's my Buick?"

"It was totaled. The culprits had poured paint thinner into the gas tank and engine."

"So you bought me a Porsche? You know I destroy cars," I said as I turned to face him.

"You're headed to Miami. Maybe you'll have better luck with cars down there," he said. "Consider it your birthday present since I won't see you next week."

I gave him a look that made him grin. "You don't actually work for me until you sign your contract, so I can still break a few rules until then."

He pressed me up against the wall and kissed me slowly. I let myself relax into it after a couple of seconds. I didn't want to look too easy. This might be the last time I kiss Ranger. Who knew if things would ever change between us. I doubted they would because it seemed unlikely that Ranger would ever want to get married. But I couldn't let go of hope just yet. Maybe if he hadn't come around by the time I started collecting Social Security I would finally be able to accept it. As we broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"I'll miss you," he said.

I sucked in a breath. "Please don't say that. I'll start crying."

He held me in his arms for several minutes without saying another word. I felt emotions welling up in me that I was trying to keep in check. I didn't want to be a blubbering mess now. I wanted to say goodbye to him and my parents while keeping my composure. I had a twelve-hundred-mile journey I could sob through.

Ranger helped me load my suitcases and boxes into the back of the Macan after I did one last search of the apartment for any forgotten items. He held my hand as we walked around to the front of the car.

"I know you want to be treated just like everyone else, but don't be afraid to call me if you need something," he said. I nodded.

"I probably won't, but thanks."

We stared at each other for a few seconds before he kissed me again. I felt tears on my cheeks as he pulled away.

"I love you, Stephanie."

He hadn't qualified with it _in my own way._ He had simply told me he loved me. It made my heart want to break into a million pieces. Why couldn't he have said it like that any other time?

"I love you, too," I replied, realizing that it was the first time I had ever put it into words. But he had always known it.

"Why did you get me a silver car?" I asked as I opened the door. "I didn't think you knew other colors existed besides black."

"Because it isn't a Rangeman car, it's your car. It'll stay cooler than a black car does in heat."

I climbed into the car and shut the door before my resolve cracked and I told him to forget all of my stupid rules. I waved goodbye and pulled out of the lot before dissolving into tears.

I hadn't bothered with composure while I said goodbye to my parents, grandmother, Valerie, Albert, and my nieces. We had all cried, with the exception of my father, and they had stood outside waving until I couldn't see them in the rearview mirror any longer. I drove through the Burg and past Morelli's house. He was standing outside by the mailbox as I approached. I honked my horn to get his attention and when he turned around, I stuck my hand through the open sun roof and gave him the finger. I didn't look back to see what he did, but sped up and around the corner.

The solo journey to Miami took me three days because I took my time getting there, but not as much time as I would have liked. I had to sign my contract on Monday morning before reporting to the school. The head of school security had already informed me that my first few days would be spent with him learning the school, the protocols, and the kids with special security designations. So the time I would be there before work would be on my own.

I pulled into the underground garage at Rangeman late Friday afternoon. Two Rangeman employees were waiting next to my designated parking spot. I had imagined Ranger tracking my every move from the time I left my parking lot until I pulled into the Rangeman garage, like the way NORAD tracks Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. I got out and the men helped me take everything up to Ranger's apartment.

"I'm Mic and this is Luis," said the younger of the two men. "Welcome to Rangeman Miami. The best one, in my opinion."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm really looking forward to working here."

Both guys left with a wave and I set about relaxing in my new digs. I sent text messages to everyone to let them know I was safely in my new, temporary home. I had to remind myself it was temporary or I was sure I'd make excuses to live there forever. I checked the fridge and found some basics like skim milk, eggs, butter, wheat bread, cheese, condiments, beer and apples. There were various wines chilled and ready for opening. The cabinets had a mix of healthy foods and foods that I was almost certain Ranger had told someone to put there for me. Peanut butter, an unopened jar of olives, my favorite cereal, and crackers. The freezer had a couple of frozen pizzas, waffles and a pint of ice cream. I felt my throat tighten and tears prick my eyes. Ranger had cared enough to make sure I had everything I needed to get me through the first few meals until I could go grocery shopping. It was done quietly, without any expectation of recognition. Just like my car. He had given me plenty of cars in the past, but this was different because he chose a car with my comfort in mind. It wasn't one of his fleet cars, but one he chose for me.

I put one of the pizzas in the oven, poured myself a glass of white wine, and walked around the apartment. I had an internal battle for about two minutes before I allowed myself to snoop in Ranger's bedroom. I didn't expect to find much of anything because he was rarely there and he didn't even keep personal items in his Trenton apartment. I found the basics in the bathroom, a few sets of business suits and basic Rangeman clothes in the closet. Condoms, gun, bullets, and lube in the nightstand. After I ran out of places to snoop, I started unpacking my own boxes. I took out pictures of family and friends and placed them around my bedroom. I had checked out the second bedroom during my visit with Ranger and found it to be only slightly smaller, but equally luxurious. The closet was slightly smaller and the bathroom didn't have the city view like Ranger's, but it was still far beyond anything I had ever lived in for more than a few days. I lugged my suitcases up the stairs and into the closet, but waited to completely unpack until after I had finished three slices of pizza. I was exhausted by ten and fell asleep quickly.

I spent the weekend getting lost in Miami on my way to the grocery store, to a nearby mall, and to try out a Chinese restaurant that one of the Rangeman guys recommended. I spent too much money on clothing, bought a bunch of food that Ranger wouldn't have approved of, and fought off constant anxiety over the fact that I knew no one and nothing about the city. Rachel and I had enjoyed our time out, but I honestly couldn't remember how to get to any of the places she had showed me. We had spent most of our time drunk on mimosas.

I had been nervous to meet Ranger's ex-wife. Not that their marriage had been anything but a legal and religious formality because of an unplanned pregnancy, but it was still intimidating to meet the only woman who had held the title. I had expected her to be a total knockout, but had been especially surprised and even more intimidated when I discovered that she was pretty in a normal kind of way. She was petite with curves that were probably killer in the days before she had children and were still enviable afterwards. She had blonde hair cut into a stacked bob, green eyes and a cute nose. She had been nice and bubbly, something I am sure Ranger had found both cute and annoying, but not very independent. I knew from running a history on her when Julie had been kidnapped that she had never held a job or gone to college. She talked about all of the things around the house that she was still waiting for her husband to do, like change a lightbulb in the hallway or buy stuff to put down the drain for a clog. She hadn't known how to put gas in the car her father and later her husband had always kept the cars filled up and had been panicked when we started to get low. I had grown up in New Jersey and still knew how to pump my own fuel. I had made her get out of the car and I had showed her how to do it. It hadn't taken me long to understand why Ranger and she would have never been able to work out, even if they had wanted to try.

She had been a source of information about Ranger that I had never considered, especially due to the circumstances of their relationship. She told me about the night she met him at a party on a beach, introduced by her brother who had been serving with Ranger. She said he had been more social in those days, but still private. She confessed to me that the sex she had with him that night on the beach had been the best of her life and that her husband had never come close to matching it. I understood that. Ranger could ruin women. Over mimosas she had told me about how he handled the news that she was pregnant. He had never once accused her of lying, but had been supportive and asked what she needed from him. She said he would call or email her weekly to check on her and the baby and that he sent as much money as he possibly could while still being able to survive himself. I had struggled to keep myself in one piece as Rachel had described while crying herself the day Ranger had held Julie for the first time after she was born. She talked about the way he had looked at the baby and how he had been so tender with her. All I had kept imaging was the little baby Ranger and I could have had together. As a result, I had indulged in far more mimosas than I would have otherwise.

I spent Sunday evening picking out the best outfit for my first day, planned my trip from Rangeman to Menendez, and made sure my messenger bag was packed with everything I might need. I called Ranger when I realized that I didn't know what all I might need for my first day.

"Babe," he said when he answered the phone and I swear my knees went to jelly.

Stay strong, I told myself. Remember why you are doing this.

"Should I take a gun with me tomorrow?" I asked. "I'm getting set up and realized I don't know what I need."

"The only weapons permitted are those already secured on-site. Most of what you will use will come out of the main security office. You will receive an ear piece along with a weapon and a small tablet to tap into the system. Hernandez will explain everything. How are you?"

"I'm okay," I replied. "I've only gotten lost four times and one of the guys set me up with amazing Chinese food."

"How long did it take you to snoop in my bedroom?" he asked. I could practically hear the grin over the phone.

"I'm hurt," I said. "Do you really think I would invade your privacy like that?"

"If I felt I needed privacy, I wouldn't give you keys to my apartments and let you stay in them unattended. Snoop all you like."

"There's nothing to see here."

"You must not have looked hard enough."

Really…sounded like an activity for a free day.

"Is Trenton having parties in the street now that the bounty hunter from hell is gone?"

"No parties, but a couple of the used car sales lots are having sales because they think they'll have too much extra inventory now that you're gone," he said.

I gave a mocking laugh. "You're hilarious."

I was overwhelmed by emotion as I pictured him sitting alone in his apartment in Trenton. He was almost always alone there, but for some reason it seemed sadder now that I was living so far away.

 _Nice ego, Steph._ I told myself. Ranger had lived most of his years without me around.

"What are you doing?" I asked after a thirty-second silence.

"Working in my apartment."

"What are you wearing?"

"Babe." His tone sounded surprised.

I smacked myself in the forehead. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just curious if you stay in your Rangeman clothes until you go to bed or if you change in to sweats and get comfortable. You know, sitting in the living room with your laptop and a beer watching football while you work."

"It varies," he said. "Tonight I'm in bed with my laptop. I was planning to watch some Swedish porn before I went to bed."

"What?!" I spluttered. I heard Ranger laugh softly.

"Babe."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately."

I disconnected from Ranger a minute later and headed next door to his bedroom. I laid my head down on his pillow and found that it still smelled like him. It was relaxing, even though it brought tears to my eyes. I missed him already, even though it had only been five days since I had seen him. We had gone longer without seeing each other while living in the same city. I had to get it together. He was never going to take me seriously about being treated like everyone else if I couldn't cope with him not being here. In the back of my mind was a little voice that reminded me that I didn't _actually_ want to be treated just like everyone else. I wanted him to get his shit together and commit to a real relationship with me.

It wasn't good to be in his room. I might start sleeping in here and then it would be awkward to have to move back to my room when he was in town. But for tonight, the last night before I was officially employed by him, I could indulge a little. I commandeered his pillows and took them to my bedroom. And I fell sleep breathing in Ranger's scent.


	7. Chapter 7

My alarm buzzed at five-thirty the next morning and I hit snooze twice before making it to the shower. I had to meet with the HR director at seven to sign my contract and then I was leaving directly from there to go to the school. I pulled on a pair of black dress pants, a dressy blue tank top, and a black, short-sleeved jacket with black flats. I pulled my hair into a ponytail that I could easily turn into a bun if I thought it didn't look professional enough. I checked out my reflection in the mirror one last time before heading down to breakfast.

I was eating some peanut butter on toast while watching the local news when a text message from Ranger dinged on my phone.

 _Ready for your first day of school?_

I struggled to type a one-handed response with my left hand while I continued eating with my right.

 _ **Yes, Dad.**_

It was about five minutes before he sent a reply, which came through when I was on the elevator.

 _I had about five different responses to that, but figured you would yell at me for breaking your rules._

 _ **Good thinking. When will you be in Miami again?**_

 _Not sure. Missing me already?_

I paused outside of the Human Resources office and stared at my phone. I was about to walk through the door and sign a contract that made me an official Rangeman employee. If I was going to expect Ranger to keep his boundaries, I was going to have to do the same.

 _ **Yes, I do. Headed into HR now to sign my contract and become an official employee.**_

I heard my phone ding again as I told the man sitting at a desk who I was. He introduced himself as Tyler and showed me into a private office. I took a seat and read Ranger's reply while I waited for the HR manager to show up.

 _Miss you too, Babe. Welcome to Rangeman._

I hadn't thought to ask what kind of salary I would make in my new position, but was pleasantly surprised by it. Some quick math told me that I could not only pay off my lease in Trenton, but also my credit cards by the end of March. That would only leave me with student loans and normal stuff like car insurance when I started my apartment hunt. I had already started pricing places and if I had thought rent was high in Trenton, it was nothing compared to Miami.

The drive through the city to Menendez took longer than I had expected. The school was a little over five miles away from the office in Coral Gables, but the commute took over thirty minutes because of construction and rush hour. It was nearly eight by the time I arrived at the school. There was a guard station at the entrance that was manned by Rangeman employees. They checked my ID and told me where to park. I drove through the campus, around the large lake in the center and parked where instructed. It was right outside the main security office, which was situated between two large buildings. I remembered from the tour I had taken with Ranger and the head of the school that one was for high school classes and the other was for middle school. I was buzzed into the office and met by the head of MPA security, Paul Hernandez.

Paul was probably in his mid-forties with curly black hair and crinkle lines around his eyes. He had been in the Marines when Ranger had been in the Army. The two had crossed paths on a couple of operations and had met up again years later when Paul applied for a job with Rangeman. He wasn't much taller than me, but I was pretty sure he could throw me across a room one-handed without breaking a sweat. He was dressed in tan trousers and a black dress shirt with a green tie.

"Hey, Plum," he said, shaking my hand. "Ready to start your first twelve-hour shift?"

"As I'll ever be. Sorry I was late, I had to stop in at HR at seven and traffic was terrible."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Leo had emailed me to say you had to see him first, so I knew you would be. It isn't a problem."

The security office was roughly twice the size of my old apartment in Trenton. There was a line of video monitors along one wall and two people sat watching them. The rest of the first room was filled with cubicles. I saw two other doors along a back wall and the opening of a hallway.

"First things you will do when you arrive is log in," Paul said, indicating a cubicle. "This is your station. You'll share it with the person who monitors the same students on the opposite shift. You'll clock in here, check the logs on your assigned students, read any school-wide memos and check the calendars to see if any of your students have schedule changes. Everything will also sync into your assigned phone. It will be the way you track your students and document checks. You can technically do anything on it that you can do on the computer, but it doesn't go as fast because it's smaller."

The cubicle I was going to use was small, but organized. A desktop computer sat on top of a black desk with three large drawers on one side. Each drawer had its own lock. The top drawer was blank, but the second drawer was labeled _STA-Plum_ while the bottom drawer was labeled _STB-Huffington._ Paul pulled out a set of two gold keys and unlocked the first two drawers.

"Top drawer is where you keep any items shared by you and the guy on B-shift," he said. He pulled out a large-screen smartphone, an ear piece, a lapel microphone and a small radio. He handed me the ear piece and mic while he turned on the walkie-talkie.

"Channel one is the school-wide channel. It links up to the Rangeman employees along with the headmistress and the deputy headmaster. We rarely use that one. Channel two is Rangeman-only. Everyone working is tied into it, including me. Channel three is for private communication and can only manage two people at one time. Channel four is also for private communication but can handle up to four people. You will keep your radio on channel two unless otherwise instructed. If you need your mic on continuously, just flip this little switch. Otherwise, just press it when you need to talk."

I stuck the radio in my pocket and attached the ear piece and microphone. Leave it to Rangeman to have the best. I barely felt the ear piece and the mic was discreet. I turned up the volume on the radio and heard a man's voice report that he had caught _Baltimore_ smoking pot in the boys bathroom in the Nichols building.

"We will stay in here for now while I show you our system," Paul said, indicating that I should follow him. "The students have a weekly convocation at nine on Mondays so that is when the ST has meetings. ST stands for _Student Team._ We were going to use SS as our abbreviation, then remembered that it might make us sound like Nazis. So ST is Student Security, GT is General Security, and PT is Patrol. You'll hear us talk about A-shift and B-shift with Student security. We are the only team that does twelve-hour shifts. Everyone else is on eight."

"Why is that?" I asked, hurrying to keep up with Paul's fast stride.

"GT and PT are always here, so they can work in three eight-hour shifts, seven days a week. We have a specialized schedule because we don't always have to be here. ST is focused solely on the students. We have three tiers of security and every student is assigned to one of those tiers. GT focuses on system integrity and video-monitoring. They monitor the school buildings and dorms, run checks on the system to be sure that it's working properly and report anything seen on the monitor to us or PT. PT monitors who comes into and leaves the campus and checks on the grounds outside of what can be seen on our cameras."

My head was starting to spin from all of the different roles and responsibilities of the different teams. I vaguely wondered if there was some sort of cheat sheet.

Paul took me into a conference room that could seat sixteen at the large wooden table. A huge screen on one wall allowed for presentations to be seen by the entire room. There was a laptop sitting at a spot near the door along with a stack of papers. We spent the next forty-five minutes going over my log-in on the Rangeman system, how to access my assigned students, the calendar and email. I could have kissed him when he handed me the stack of papers. One was a cheat sheet on the security threat levels, there were detailed maps of each building and the list of student code names for tiers two and three. Tier two kids had the names of U.S. cities while the tier three kids were named after states.

"What is the difference between the tiers?" I asked as I read through them. I noticed that Julie Martine, Ranger's thirteen-year-old daughter, was a tier three. Her code name was New Jersey.

"Tier one is low-risk and consists of the majority of the students. We don't deal with them unless there is a fight to break up, they go missing from campus, or during a personal or school-wide emergency. Tier two is the moderate-risk. They get visual checks mid-day and we monitor their class attendance. Tier two students can be at a slightly elevated risk of kidnapping, kids of minor celebrities, or the ones with behavioral issues like smoking pot or sneaking off campus. They are the ones that will be your biggest pains in the ass. Tier three kids are at the highest risk. We have to do visual checks multiple times a day including at drop-off and pick-up if they are day students, monitor their class attendance, do room checks at curfew, and accompany them anytime they leave campus without a parent. They are the kids at the highest risk of danger. A few of them have been kidnapped or come close to it. They also wear activity monitors that have GPS capabilities. We only turn them on if they are reported missing."

Six Rangeman employees started wandering into the conference room at five minutes to nine. Some wore short sleeved dress shirts with black trousers while others wore polos with khakis. They were all well-muscled, but it was in a more discreet, leaner way like Ranger. They were better able to blend in with a crowd of academics than people like Hal or Tank. They chatted lightly about various things like students or last night's football game. I noticed a couple of them giving me a once-over.

"Listen up," Paul said at nine on the dot. Everyone immediately stopped talking and focused on him.

"This is Stephanie Plum. She's the newest member of A-shift. She has worked with Ranger up in Trenton in the past so he can personally vouch for her. If she screws up, we can blame him."

Everyone chuckled lightly.

"Chuck Huffington is moving to B-shift from GT to balance us out. That means redistribution."

"Thank God," said a blond guy from the other end of the table. "I was tempted to drown the Fahed boy while he was doing laps the other day."

"I think we're all tempted to kill that kid at least once a week," said an African-American guy sitting next to him.

Paul tapped a few keys on his laptop and it transferred his screen onto the wall. It was a map of the United States with the most, but not all of the states named and certain cities were labeled with small dots. There were seven distinct regions, all highlighted in different colors. I realized that the cities and states all correlated to the student code names.

"I'm working introductions for Plum in with the new details, so pay attention," Paul said as he consulted a list.

"Jason Torres," Paul said, indicating the blond guy who had wanted to drown the Fahed boy. "You have the northeastern region and tier one with last names starting with A & B."

"Suck my dick, South Dakota," Torres muttered as he made a note on his phone.

"Mo Barajas," Paul continued, indicating an attractive man with brown skin who had taken the seat to my right. "You have the southwest and tier one C through E."

Barajas gave me a wink as he leaned back in his chair. He had the cockiness of a guy who knows he is attractive and will use it to his every advantage.

"Ezequiel Estes. Great Lakes and tier one F through H."

Estes was around forty with a shaved head. He looked like he hadn't slept in a month and his dark blue polo shirt was tight across a well-defined chest. He made no comment or indication that he knew anyone else existed.

Ryan Walker was a skinny guy with glasses and messy brown hair. If Harry Potter ditched the lightning bolt on his forehead and learned how to kick ass, he would look like this guy. He was assigned the southeast and tier one I through L. He gave me a brief lift of his chin in acknowledgment when I looked in his direction.

I was assigned the mid-Atlantic region and tier one M through Q, which made the entire group happy. Apparently no one liked having to watch Julie for fear that something might happen to her and then Ranger would kill them slowly for losing his daughter.

The dark-skinned man sitting next to Torres was named Darren Reyes and informed he would have the northwest and tier one R through V. He groaned loudly when he consulted the map.

"Ah, come on," he said, clearly pained. "I had the Faheds all last year. Shouldn't the newbie get them instead?"

"You're the only one the boy will actually listen to," Paul informed him. "Besides, you nearly had a panic attack last week when you thought Martine was missing."

Reyes grumbled under his breath while a freckled, red-haired guy named Bryce Andersen was told he would have the Midwestern states and the remaining letters of the alphabet.

"Angela Gonzalez's code name is now Nebraska," Paul informed him. "We are no longer using Oklahoma."

" _OOOOOOOOOOOKlahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plain_ ," sang Torres, which made the rest of the group laugh.

"And that is exactly why we aren't using it anymore," Paul said. "And if I ever hear that again, I'll rip your tongue out of your head, Torres."

Paul reviewed a couple of memos sent out by the headmistress that meant nothing to me and said that anyone going to New York needed to attend the planning meeting being held in two weeks.

"I'm going to be working with Plum for the next few days to help her get used to the job. If she asks a question or looks like she needs help, don't be a dick. Help her out," Paul said as the meeting wrapped up fifteen minutes later. "And speaking of dicks, keep them in your pants. Just because we have a woman on the team doesn't mean any of you need to hit on her. We don't need a repeat of Shelly and Mark. New assignments are uploaded into the system and take place immediately. Now get out of here."

Paul left me in my cubicle to start memorizing my students and their information while he did my morning checks. I brought up the screen he showed me on my log-in page and found my system already updated. Each tier had its own section due to the different requirements. I decided to focus on tier three first since those students required the most security.

 _ **STA-Plum**_

 _ **Tier Three Detail: Mid-Atlantic Region**_

 _Lance Matthew Kirkpatrick- Delaware_

 _Amelia Suzanne Van Goethe- Maryland_

 _Julie Elizabeth Martine- New Jersey_

 _Cynthia Anne Parker- New York_

 _Paolo Antonio Luigi Trevino-Virginia_

 _Luciana Ana Maria Trevino –West Virginia_

Each student's name had a link to their student profile which included things like parents, schedule, commendations and demerits, extracurricular activities, health information and threat assessment. I clicked on Julie's name first. It brought up a current photo of her, which showed me a girl who had grown two years since the last time I had seen her.

 **Julie Elizabeth Martine**

DOB: 12/12/2003

Parents/Guardians: Rachel and Ronald Martine

Residence: 39409 Fairfield Ave, Miami

Grade: 8

Homeroom: Darlene Montgomery

GPA: 4.0

Extracurricular Activities: Girls' Soccer, Chorus

Community Service Organization: Homelessness Initiative.

Health conditions: Severe allergy to strawberries. Epipen must be on student at all times.

I read on to learn that Julie had skipped the third grade and had been admitted to MPA in sixth. Her IQ tested in the gifted range. People named Meredith and John Hastings along with Paula Martine were identified as grandparents and were authorized as people permitted to pick Julie up from school. They all had photos attached to the file. Ranger was also on the list, identified as a non-custodial parent. Her kidnapping two years earlier was listed under threat assessment.

I tore myself away from Julie's file and moved onto the others in tier three. Lance Kirkpatrick was the son of the CEO to a major pharmaceutical company located in Oregon. The company had been involved in a controversial experiment to fast-track a medication that had resulted in three deaths. Kirkpatrick Senior had refused to step down as CEO, despite the numerous death threats he and his family had received. Lance was a junior, played lacrosse and had a 3.5 GPA. He lived at the school, but always went home on breaks. His photo showed a good-looking boy with blonde hair and hazel eyes.

Amelia Van Goethe was a strawberry-blonde senior, played violin, field hockey and chess. She was being courted by the Ivy League. Her parents had divorced when she was three. Her mother was the United States Ambassador to Turkey. Her father was from the Netherlands and frequently traveled between Miami and his native country for work. An au pair was listed as the main emergency contact. She always went on the Thanksgiving and Spring Break trips hosted by the school, but spent winter breaks in Turkey with her mother. I felt bad for Amelia. All that hard work and your parents weren't even around to see it.

Cynthia Parker reminded me of Joyce Barnhardt. Dark red hair, green eyes and a _I'm-hot-and-I-know-it_ grin on her face. She was the granddaughter of the Vice President of the United States. No pressure there. Her parents lived in Washington, D.C., where they owned a successful law firm. Her file showed several demerits for skipping class, lewd behavior and defiance. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like her very much.

Paolo and Luciana Trevino were brother and sister from Rome, Italy. Their father was a famous clothing designer while their mother had been a runway model for him until she retired to start a family. Paolo was in the tenth grade while Luciana was in eighth. Both seemed like good kids, though Paolo had a couple of demerits on file for lewd behavior. My guess was he got caught making out with a girl. There was something of a young Joe Morelli in his sly grin in the school photo.

My tier two kids looked like a collective pain in the ass. They were the offspring of B-list celebrities, a hot-headed Congressman from Tennessee, lower-level diplomats from the local consulates and a couple were just brainy little shits who thought things like attending class and federal laws were beneath them. Three of them were at serious risk of being expelled. The tier two kids had code names that were cities in the mid-Atlantic region like _Baltimore, Newark and Wilmington_.

I started to feel a little overwhelmed as I read through the details of what I had to do for each tier of security, certain I would never remember it all. Part of me wanted to call Ranger and ask him if he really thought I could do this job, but I resisted. He would tell me that he did and that I needed to just give myself time to get used to it. I'd been in the office all of three hours.

I was informed at noon to take my lunch break and that I would have the same half-hour time slot every day because Paul had to cover slack during breaks. I was shown to a small dining room inside the security office where food service left a variety of options like salads, sandwiches, fruit, vegetables and water. I grabbed a salad with grilled chicken, an apple and a water. I dumped a bunch of French dressing on my salad and dug in. There was a guy from Patrol and one from the General Security team also taking their lunches. They sat together at the same table, but weren't talking. The GT guy was reading a book while the Patrol guy listened to something on his phone. I pulled out my phone and read through a text message from my sister and sent one to my grandmother. I also re-read my last text from Ranger, just because I missed him.

 _Miss you too, Babe. Welcome to Rangeman._


	8. Chapter 8

I had been concerned that life as a private school security officer could be dull. I had imagined myself sitting for hours on end at some desk being passed hordes of kids in a blur of plaid skirts and crested blazers while I did my best not to drool. I was surprised to find myself wishing I had more opportunities to sit down and be bored.

My day started with confirming that my residential students hadn't escaped sometime in the night and were at breakfast in the food service building between seven and seven-thirty each morning. I would then have to hurry meaning _run_ to the loading zone to confirm my tier three students' arrivals each day, which consisted of Julie Martine and Amelia Van Goethe. Amelia always arrived at seventy-thirty-five on the dot, driven by an older woman who looked as though she was counting down the days to retirement. MPA didn't allow students to have cars on campus, so even the older students were driven to school. Julie always arrived closer to seven-forty-five, driven either by a harried-looking Rachel who was usually yelling at one of her other children to finish putting on some article of clothing or eat their breakfast, or by Ron who was a nice-looking man that always smiled and waved at me as I entered my visual confirmation on my phone.

I had introduced myself to all of the students I was monitoring during my first week at the school. Most were nice enough. Julie had been elated to have me there and had hugged me fiercely. A couple of the students had looked at me as though I had an extra head growing out of my shoulders and hadn't acknowledged me in any other way. After that initial introduction, I had decided that I would rather not have to interact any more than necessary. I did my checks quietly and efficiently like the other members of the ST. We were all connected via radios and there was always a low level of chatter going on during times when the kids were in classes. The ST was a more laid-back group than what I was accustomed to with Rangeman. Maybe it was because we got to wear normal clothes and were surrounded by teenagers all day. I found most of the guys friendly and helpful. No one was openly hostile, but a couple seemed like they couldn't care less that I existed. PT and GT were stereotypical Rangeman employees with their black fatigues and stoicism who occasionally informed us if a visitor was on campus or if a student had thrown something over a camera in an attempt to avoid detection in some elicit activity.

I was informed a week after I started that I would be needed to accompany some of the students on the Thanksgiving trip to New York City. The students had the entire week off and many of the residential students went home to their families. The school offered a trip each year to New York City for the week. Anyone could go, but it was mandatory for any residential students not going home for the holidays. The dorms were required to be empty for the week for deep cleaning. There would be fifty students going this year one of the largest groups to date–and they preferred to have the sole female member of security along for the ride. There would be five other people from ST going along and we would be met by members of the Trenton office who would serve as relief. I had thought the trip sounded exciting until the first security meeting on it a week later. Those in attendance made it clear that the whole thing was a headache because you were trying to keep track of a large group of teenagers some of whom were at high-risk in one of the busiest cities in the world during one of the busiest weeks of the year. The thrill of watching the Macy's parade live and Black Friday shopping died quickly. We would arrive in New York the Sunday before Thanksgiving and would leave to go back to Miami the Saturday after the holiday. The school was occupying an entire floor of the hotel where we would stay and the students would have certain times where they were required to remain on the floor for studying, socializing, or simply to give the adults accompanying them a break. There were some activities that included everyone and others that would break up into smaller groups.

October passed quickly as I got used to my work schedule. My days off were spent hanging out at the apartment, going to the beach, or simply exploring the city. I couldn't decide if it was weirder to have actual days off or to not have my family and friends around to visit. Ranger would check in occasionally, which was both a relief and a disappointment. I was glad he didn't call me daily and that he hadn't been down for a visit yet so that I could work on developing some resistance to him. I was also disappointed _because_ he didn't call more often and hadn't come down to visit me when he knew I had no one. How messed up is that? I missed randomly running into him around town, though was it ever really that random when he had me tracked in his command center? I missed the smell of Bulgari Green shower gel and the feel of the hair standing up on the back of my neck when he was nearby but I hadn't seen him. What I didn't miss was the sinking feeling that accompanied his touch. His touch was thrilling, but I felt it was akin to touching someone through glass the sensation of the emotional connection was there when the reality was that you weren't actually in contact. It had seemed like our entire relationship had been that way. On the couple of occasions when he had let that wall down, it had been raw, honest, and amazing. But it had been extremely short-lived.

"The security breakdown for the New York trip is seven tier-threes, twelve tier-twos, and thirty-one tier-ones." Paul stated at the November meeting for the New York trip.

He put the list of code names up on the large screen in the conference room. Everyone groaned when we saw the code name _North Dakota_ on the list. Ahmed Fahed was the most dreaded student in the school and I knew exactly why. I had been shocked to realize I had met Fahed a couple of years ago when I had done some work for Ranger for the first time. He had been a cocky young sheikh that I had picked up at the airport who had subsequently stolen the car I'd been driving when he had demanded to stop for something to drink. Fahed had unfortunately remembered the incident and had told the story to anyone who would listen. I had immediately understood why everyone hated him, including his younger sister, Layla.

"The good news is that you will be working eight-hour shifts on this one," Paul continued. "Bad news is that you work an eight-hour shift every day we are there. But the itinerary is pretty decent. The headmistress didn't like the idea of having too much going on with a group this size."

The itinerary for the week was displayed next and we all began taking notes. With the exception of Thanksgiving Day, the students weren't allowed to leave their rooms before eight each morning and were required to be in them by eight every night. Tours of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, a Broadway Show and a Knicks game were scheduled for the entire group. There were some small group options such as shopping, walking tours and visits to other museums and tourist attractions available throughout the week. There was a two-hour period from two to four in the afternoon every day where the students were required to be at the hotel working on school assignments related to the trip.

"There will be two teachers serving as chaperones along with four parents. There will be six of us and six men from the Trenton office. We'll be on the twentieth floor of the Central Park Marriott. Boys will have the rooms at the north end of the floor, girls will be on the south. There will be five rooms with four boys per room and seven rooms of four girls and one room with just two girls. Both of those girls have mothers who are chaperones and will share with them. Everyone with exception of myself, Ranger and Plum will have to share a room with someone, so pick wisely."

"Why does Plum get her own room?" Barajas asked with a wicked grin. "I'd be happy to share with her."

A few of the guys chuckled and I threw a wad of paper at him. Paul rolled his eyes. Clearly sexual harassment seminars were lost of this group.

As I left the room I looked over my schedule for the trip. I was on shift to work from eight to four Monday through Wednesday and the four to midnight shift Thursday and Friday. We all had to work on the travel days. I had Thanksgiving Day off until four in the afternoon, which meant I might be able to get down to Trenton for an early dinner with my family before I had to work. I was sure if I called my mother and told her that she would be more than happy to eat at noon instead of five. I was surprised that Ranger would be on the trip with us. I briefly wondered if it was something he always did or if he was joining because he knew I would be there. I told myself it didn't matter as I went to check on Matt Spillman, the tier two kid known as Baltimore. He was notorious for smoking weed and screwing girls in janitor's closets. I had already caught him once with his pants down in front of a girl on her knees. I had figured out his regular hideouts by now and hadn't been the least bit surprised to find him smoking a joint out behind a shed that held sports equipment.

"You shouldn't have laughed at Fahed when he got detained by security." I told Barajas three weeks later as we supervised the students collecting their luggage. "I would think you might have some sympathy for racial profiling considering your first name is Mohammed."

Barajas shrugged. "I don't care if the TSA wants to search me just because my Iranian mother gave me the most popular Muslim name. They're lucky they get to touch this body. Speaking of which, would you like to touch it?" I rolled my eyes and Barajas grinned widely. "Besides, Fahed didn't get detained because he's Muslim. He got detained because he's a cocky little shit who smarted off to the TSA agent when he was told to take off his shoes just like the rest of us."

"Paul's probably going to yell at you," I told him as I grabbed my own suitcase from the conveyor belt.

"Life isn't worth living if Paul doesn't chew my ass out at least once a week," he replied.

We arrived at the loading zone outside to find a bus waiting for us along with two black Ford Explorers and a black Porsche Cayenne. The hairs on my neck stood up as I glanced around for Ranger. I waved to a couple of the men from the Trenton office that I knew pretty well and completed the same student count that I knew every other security personnel was completing. A final count would be done before the bus pulled away.

"You can ride with me," came Ranger's voice from behind me. I nearly peed my pants, though I couldn't tell whether it was from excitement or being startled. I felt him take my suitcase and watched as he loaded into the back of the Cayenne. God, was it just me or was the man even sexier than usual? Nope, keep it in your pants, Stephanie. Be professional. This man is your employer. Your very sexy employer. Who has given you the best sex of your life. Damn it!

"Hey," I said weakly. I watched as the bus pulled away, flanked in front and back by the SUVs.

I climbed into the front seat of the Cayenne and hadn't even buckled my seatbelt before Ranger had dragged me across the center console and had pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was intense and his tongue was in my mouth before I could process it.

"Hey," I said, pulling myself away. "I know that is definitely not the way you greet all of your employees."

He gave me a shameless grin. "Got carried away. I've missed you."

I took in a deep breath and held it for a second before answering. "Yeah, I've missed you too."

I watched out the window as he drove through the city. I loved New York and part of me wished I had visited it more often when I lived closer. Now I had to take a plane ride to get there.

"You're officially off-shift now. Interested in going to dinner with me after you get checked in to the hotel?" Ranger asked as we pulled in a parking garage near Central Park half an hour later.

"Sounds good to me," I said. "I haven't had a decent meal all day."

I had the very last room at the south end of the hallway on the twentieth floor, next to the south stairwell. Ranger's room was across the hall from mine and more Rangeman employees were in the rooms next to us. I changed out of my airplane clothes and pulled on a cute green dress with long sleeves that I had found on sale the week before and paired it with black heels. I had been binge-watching _Sex & and the City _since learning that I would be going on the trip and it had made me want to be very stylish while I walked around the city. I answered a knock on my door forty-five minutes later and found Ranger wearing a black blazer over a black t-shirt and black pants. He gave the green dress a once-over.

"You look nice," he said quietly as a pair of Rangeman employees from Trenton passed by.

"Thank you," I said as I pulled on a coat and followed him to the elevator. We passed the students' rooms where many doors were left open so the kids could yell at their friends. The smell of Bulgari shower gel filled the elevator as we stepped on and the doors shut. It was comforting and sensual and I pressed my thighs together convulsively as the imagine of Ranger taking me up against the wall of the elevator flashed through my head. I really should have worn pants.

We walked three blocks to a Brazilian restaurant called _Paxião._ The lights were low, the music sensual, and the smell of spices mingled pleasantly with fresh flowers. We were shown to a corner booth and given menus. There was a dance floor in the middle of the room and several couples were dancing to a samba. Ranger ordered us a bottle of red wine and we sipped while perusing the menu. I wasn't familiar with Brazilian food so I had to read the menu thoroughly. I opted for something called feijoada, which sounded like a meaty chili and Ranger ordered something called moqueca de camarão.

"Are you still happy with the job?" he asked once the server took our menus away.

"Yes, I am. Though I can't believe you didn't tell me about Ahmed Fahed being at the school."

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "What about him?"

I gave him an incredulous look. "Don't you remember? It was the very first time I tried working for you back before you had the office on Haywood. You had me trying out different jobs and one of them was to pick up Fahed from the airport and he ended up stealing the car."

Ranger smiled. "I had forgotten about that. I just remember you looking terrified when Tank threw a junkie out a third-floor window."

I shook my head. "Another job I didn't enjoy. But I do enjoy this one."

"I thought you would. It suits you. You look happy, Babe."

I thought about that for a moment. I hadn't had any relationship drama, destroyed cars, or crazed stalkers in over six weeks. It was practically a record.

"I am pretty happy," I said with a smile. "Things are finally going right for me."

The look on Ranger's face was inscrutable, and I wondered why that bothered me. Wasn't he happy for me? He was the one who had made the suggestion in the first place. We were quiet as we ate our salads and the first semblance of awkwardness crept in. We hadn't spent much time together since I had accidentally dropped the bomb about my miscarriage and we had never really talked about it since. I had wanted to talk, but he had made it clear that he didn't wish to discuss the subject beyond the initial discussion. It made me feel a little more vindicated in my decision not to tell him.

"I had an interesting conversation with Morelli a couple of weeks ago," Ranger said once our entrees had been served.

"Joe Morelli?"

"It wasn't with Bella."

I had stopped with a spoonful of feijoada halfway to my mouth. "What did you talk about?"

"You. He's mad that you aren't answering his calls and blamed me for that."

"I blocked his number because he wouldn't leave me alone." I said. "Did you at least make it clear that we aren't together?"

"Yes. He didn't seem to believe that I wouldn't be with you once he was out of the picture."

I shook my head and dug into my food. "He clearly doesn't know you."

I felt Ranger watch me, but when I looked up he was focused on his meal.

"I told him to take the hint that you didn't want to talk to him and move on with his life. I think he finally got the message."

"You didn't threaten him, did you?" I asked.

I thought I saw a smile play at the corners of his mouth. "Not explicitly."

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped me and poured myself more wine from the bottle.

I nearly fell over when Ranger ordered something that looked like a chocolate flan for the two of us to share as a dessert. I suspected he might be drunk off the wine. It was pretty strong.

We held hands as we walked back to the hotel two hours later. New York at night was beautiful and the people who passed us felt like movie extras who would pass a couple in a romantic comedy. It was after eight o'clock, so the students were all in their rooms for the night as we walked across the twentieth floor. There were two Rangeman employees on watch for anyone trying to sneak out of their rooms. Ranger followed me to my room and as I was inserting my key card into the lock, I felt a familiar sensation on my lower back.

"What's poking me?" I asked quietly. Ranger leaned in so close that his lips brushed my ear.

"You get three guesses and the first two don't count."

He practically pushed me into the room as the door opened and I was up against the wall with his erection digging into my belly before the door closed behind us. His kiss was desperate this time as he worked on trying to relieve me of my underwear. Part of my brain was screaming at me that this was a bad idea, but the part where Ranger had just inserted two of his fingers told my brain to shut the hell up. I was fumbling with the button on his pants when there was a knock at the door. I grunted and leaned my head back against the wall.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Chuck," said a deep voice on the other side of the door. He must be one of the Rangeman employees on duty. "We've got a problem in one of the girls' rooms, but the teachers and mothers went out after the kids went to their rooms."

"Which room?" I asked as I started righting my clothes.

"2018."

I followed Chuck to room 2018 and entered using the master key that we had been given for the week. Inside I found four senior girls who had managed to get ahold of the minibar keys that we had requested be removed from the rooms and were now drunk on little bottles of vodka. I confiscated the bottles, told the girls to get to sleep and left the room feeling conflicted. I had just missed out on a sexual encounter with Ranger to bust up a bunch of drunk high school girls. That was disappointing because it would have been excellent, but I was also relieved.

I found Ranger sitting on my bed when I walked into the room. He was still fully dressed, but gave off the impression that he could be undressed in less than thirty seconds.

"That was close," I said, kicking off my heels.

"I take it that means we aren't going to pick up where we left off."

I shook my head. "It was a bad idea that wasn't fully realized. We need to leave it that way."

Ranger stood up and moved to wrap his arms around me, but I stepped back. "I'm serious. We've talked about this. We need boundaries."

He exhaled the tiniest breath, which could have been a sigh in a normal person. "Okay then. Goodnight, Ms. Plum."

I snorted and punched him in the arm as he walked past. "Goodnight, Mr. Manoso."

He shook his head and turned to face me as he walked backwards towards the door. "That sounded dirty."

"Get out."


	9. Chapter 9

I love New York City. I love the pace of it and the way you can disappear in it while being surrounded by people. You can meet people from nearly every country and run into celebrities on a daily basis. I regretted not having spent more time in New York while I lived so close. But by Wednesday afternoon I was so exhausted that I hated New York City and was considering throwing myself under one of the floats at the parade the next morning.

The students had taken a tour of Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty on Monday and my feet had been killing me by the end of shift. I foolishly hadn't considered how much walking would be involved and had worn cute boots rather than practical ones. On Tuesday they had split into small groups for various activities around the city and I had been assigned to one of the walking tours. I managed to wear better shoes for that one. They had gone to see _Hamilton_ on Broadway that evening, which was torture for me because I hate musicals as much as I hate history. I wasn't supposed to be on shift during it, but had been needed because a severe bout of food poisoning had brought down three chaperones and four Rangeman employees. Those of us still walking had been forced to work twelve to fourteen hour shifts until everyone recovered. Thankfully it looked like everyone would be back to normal in time for the parade on Thursday.

"Wanna go get drunk?" Barajas asked me as we ended our shift at six on Wednesday. The kids were going to a nearby Italian restaurant for dinner with Ranger, Hal, the chaperones and two other Rangeman employees accompanying them.

I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes while I debated. I could go back to my room on an almost empty floor, order pizza from room service and watch television, or go out and have a few drinks which would help me sleep better that night. Barajas was from New York so I knew he would know good places.

"No clubs," I said. "I just want to relax and have a drink."

"I feel you," he replied, cracking his neck as he spoke. "I know just the place. Get out of the work clothes and into some jeans. I'll meet you at the elevator in half an hour."

We ended up at a bar several blocks away from the hotel. It looked like the kind of homey bar you would see on television with lots of regulars who all know each other's names and life stories. I learned that Barajas's father, Juan, owned the place and was currently serving as bartender. He was a good-looking man with dark brown skin and a blinding white smile. I learned he was from the Dominican Republic, but had moved to the United States as a teenager with his parents. He had worked at this bar in his twenties and had become like a son to the man who had owned it. When the older man was ready to retire, he had given the bar to Juan because he had known he could keep it running. In the twenty-five years since he had owned it, the profits had doubled.

We ate burgers and fries while we drank our beers. I didn't get a lot of opportunities to sit down with the guys I worked with and talk to them so it was nice to have a light-hearted conversation that didn't involve the teenagers we were paid to protect. I was surprised to learn that Barajas was divorced with two children, a six-year-old boy and a four-year-old girl. Both lived in New York with their mother after he had taken the job in Miami three years ago. He talked about missing them, but that he only intended to stay in Miami another two years. Miami may be expensive, but it was still cheaper than New York City. He flew up to visit them one weekend a month and talked to them daily. He and his ex-wife had tried to get back together a couple of years ago, but it hadn't worked out.

When conversation turned to me, I focused more on my family, friends and time as a bond enforcement agent in Trenton. I tried to steer clear of my romantic relationships because they had been a mess that I didn't want to rehash with someone who worked with me at Ranger's company. I told him a bunch of the funny things I had seen while hauling people to jail as we finished our meal and ordered shots.

"Are you gonna shoot me if I ask what the history is between you and Ranger?" Barajas asked after we had each had a shot of tequila.

I coughed as the tequila burned its way down my esophagus. "What history?"

"The guys in Trenton have always said he was in love with you and that they figured you two were fucking from time to time."

Geez. For people who never seemed to talk very much they sure had run their mouths to the other offices.

"Ranger and I are friends," I said simply. "He taught me everything I know in this line of work. That's it."

Barajas snorted as he indicated to his father that we wanted two more. "You can deny it all you want. I saw the way he looked at you when we met up with him at the airport. Besides, no man is gonna jump off a bridge just for a friend. Not even Ranger."

"I heard Ranger once jumped off a bridge in the dark to go after an FTA."

Barajas waited until his father was out of earshot before he spoke again. "That's okay. You don't have to talk about it. I know what the Trenton guys have said. I can read between the lines. You don't want people to think you two are together while you work for him and that you get special treatment."

"We aren't together. And I refuse to accept special treatment from him just because we're friends. I've already made that clear to him." I replied in a tone that sounded bitchier than I had intended. Barajas held up his hands in a 'I surrender' gesture.

"Point taken, Plum. Do you want to play some pool? There's a table open."

We took our drinks and headed towards the pool table in the corner. I racked the balls while Barajas got our cues ready. I thought I felt him checking out my ass at one point, but when I glanced in his direction he was staring at the point of one of the cues and gauging whether or not it needed more chalk. I had to cut myself off after two shots in order to continue to see only one of everything. Barajas had a much stronger constitution than I did.

I kicked his ass in the first round and he returned the favor in the second. It was nearly ten as we began a tie-breaker round. Barajas's drinking finally started to catch up with him about halfway through the game as he missed an easy shot on one of his solids and I deftly put two stripes away.

"You might as well give up," I said as I missed sinking the eight ball into a corner pocket. "There is no way you are going to get that solid put away, especially when it is blocked by the eight ball and there is absolutely no way you can sink that without also sinking the eight."

Barajas raised an eyebrow. "Really? Feeling cocky, huh? Care to make a wager?"

I laughed as I took a sip of the beer I had eventually ordered after downing two glasses of water.

"Sure. If you lose, you cover my shift in the morning so I can sleep in."

Barajas nodded slowly. "That's cool. I can do that." He walked around to my side of the table and stood behind me. He was really close and I was about to ask what he was doing when I felt something hard dig into my lower back. "And if I win," he said quietly, his breath hot on my ear as he spoke. "I get to fuck you tonight."

I chuckled nervously as I took another sip. There was no way he was going to make that shot.

"Deal," I said. I _really_ wanted the morning off. Especially because it was going to start at six instead of eight.

Barajas took a minute to examine the table from different angles before stopping in a spot that made no sense to me. It felt like everything moved in slow motion as I watched him make what should have been an impossible shot and sink his final solid ball into a side pocket. He grinned lasciviously at me.

"Eight ball, corner pocket," he said as he bent over the table once more and sank the eight ball into the pocket nearest me. I felt my stomach flip.

"How did you do that?" I asked, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice.

"I've been playing pool since I was little. There isn't any shot I haven't had to make at least once."

I nodded slowly and chugged the rest of my beer. Barajas collected our cues and hung them up on the wall before walking over to stand next to me.

"You ready?" he asked quietly. "Because I've got big plans for you tonight."

I sucked in a breath. "So you were serious about that?"

He tipped my chin up and placed his lips on mine. The kiss was lusty without being too graphic. I was a little breathless as we separated and a little more than uncomfortable with the way my body had responded to that kiss.

Was I really going to do this? We had to work together every day and we had already been warned about the two people who had hooked up on the job and had a major falling out. As Barajas nudged me towards the door, I reminded myself that I wasn't looking for love or anything remotely close. And I suspected that Barajas was of the hit-it-and-quit-it school of thought, so no worries that he would be falling in love with me. It wouldn't kill me to have a one-night fling, would it?

We made our way back to the hotel and were quietly able to slip into my room without anyone noticing us. Barajas had made a stop at a drug store on the way back to the hotel for condoms and wasted no time getting me out my clothes or himself suited up for the game. All three of them.

The sound of an unfamiliar alarm woke me up the next morning and made my head throb. I felt Barajas move in bed next to me to shut it off.

"What time is it?" I asked quietly as I pressed my fingers into my temples.

"It's five. Wanna go another round before we have to get ready for work?"

I groaned. "No, Barajas. I have a hangover. Go back to your room and let's never mention this again."

I felt him lean over me and press his dick in my back. It was hard, of course.

"You didn't have a good time last night?" he asked seductively.

"I did, but we work together and I don't want things to be awkward."

I heard him climb out of bed and start shuffling around for his clothes on the floor. "They aren't gonna be awkward unless you let them be. I wasn't planning to propose marriage. I just wanted to fuck you and see what it was like. Can we be cool with that?"

He certainly knew how to make a girl feel special. "Yeah, that's great. Glad we're on the same page. Now get out."

"See you at the parade, Plum." Barajas said as he pulled on his shoes and left the room.

I laid in bed for another minute before I got up and headed to the shower. I wasn't quite sure how I was feeling about my one-night stand with Barajas yet. I needed a clearer head for that. But what really sucked was that I had to work a security detail for a bunch of kids in a crowd of thousands with a hangover before hauling my ass down to Trenton for Thanksgiving dinner with my family. Not my best move, but I figured with some pain reliever, a Coke, and some potato chips to substitute for fries that I would be able to get through the morning. I dressed in dark wash jeans, a pair of comfortable brown boots and a black sweater. We didn't want to stand out in the large crowd and freak people out so we were dressing casually.

A text message from Ranger came through on my phone as I was pulling on my boots.

 _ **Chaperones decided the students can watch the parade from the west side windows due to the weather. Everyone who worked extra hours this week gets the day off. Do you want leave for Trenton earlier?**_

Excited to spend more time with my family, I replied that I would. Ranger had said he would drive me because he needed to go down to his office for a while and we agreed to leave in fifteen minutes. I was in the middle of changing my clothes when he knocked on the door.

"I'm almost ready," I told him as I pulled on a sweater over my tank top. "I wanted to change since I wouldn't be standing out in the cold all morning."

"You look good," he commented, scanning the black skirt,

Ranger lounged against the wall while I gathered everything I would need for the day. I glanced in his direction and opened my mouth to say something, but stopped when I noticed his gaze resting on the floor beside my bed. But he quickly looked away and straightened up.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and I could swear there was an edge to his voice.

"Yeah," I said, pulling on my coat. I swung my purse over my shoulder and followed him to the door. I turned to look behind me as I passed the bed and my stomach did a flip. There was an open condom wrapper on the floor. It was laying just under the edge of the bed, but still visible. Crap. He knew I'd slept with someone last night. This was going to be an awkward drive.

It took us two-and-a-half hours to get from Manhattan to the Burg with the holiday traffic. The normally relaxed, comfortable silence I have with Ranger was tense as we slowly made our way down the Turnpike. He hadn't said a word since we had left my hotel room. It really wasn't his business if I slept with someone else. He didn't have the right to be upset with me. He probably had a list of women he called on when he needed to take care of that particular itch. Granted, the idea of him calling someone up just to sleep with them made my stomach hurt, but it still wasn't my place to get upset if he did. Not that he would tell me or I would ever ask…geez, I needed some wine.

"I'll pick you up at seven," Ranger said as he pulled in front of my parent's house. I hurried to get out of the car.

"Thanks. I appreciate you bringing me," I said as I grabbed my purse. I shut the door quickly and hurried away from the awkwardness. I would have to endure another two hours on the ride back to the hotel later in the day. I told myself not to think about it as I opened the front door and surprised my family several hours early.

Dinner with my family was gloriously chaotic. Even though we had spoken on the phone at least once a week since I had moved, I was bombarded with questions about my job and Miami in general. I was complimented on my tan, told I was too thin, and questioned about if I had met any nice men in Miami. I told my family that I worked with great people, but I wasn't trying to date yet. I needed a break from relationships and that was true. It just didn't mean that I had to be celibate. I didn't regret my one-night stand with Barajas, though I knew I would never have another one with a coworker. It had taken me by surprise while I was drunk. I doubted I would have agreed to the wager had I been sober. Then again, I had done something similar with Ranger a few years ago, but that had been out of desperation because I had needed the money.

My time with my family went by faster than I would have liked. Seven o'clock rolled around and I was hugged by everyone before I headed out to Ranger's car. I climbed in and was so caught up in the warm, cozy feelings of having spent time with my family that I was caught off guard by his words as he pulled away from the curb.

"Which one of my employees did you sleep with?" he asked, his voice flat.

My stomach did a nervous flip. I had been hoping we could avoid this conversation. I knew he wouldn't be happy that I'd slept with a coworker.

"It doesn't matter," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "It won't happen again."

Ranger didn't reply, but made it clear that the conversation was neither over nor moving forward until I answered his question. I managed to hold out until we reached the Trenton city limits.

"It was Barajas," I said on a sigh. "We were drunk, made a stupid bet, and he won. We agreed it was just a one-time thing and it won't happen again."

"No, it won't happen again. Because if it does, I'll kill him." he replied after a few seconds.

I whipped my head in his direction, my Italian temper rising. "You don't get to say things like that. I can sleep with whomever I want."

"You don't find it hypocritical that you have been refusing to get too close to me because you work here, but you don't mind sleeping with someone you work with every day?" Ranger commented.

I spluttered for a few beats, trying to put together a more substantive sentence than _fuck you._

"First of all," I said, counting off on my fingers. "Barajas isn't my superior you are. Second, it was only a one-night stand. We both went into this with that in mind. It won't be happening again. And finally, you and I have an emotional history together. We've talked about this. You know exactly why this is different."

"You've been insisting that I treat you like any other employee and that's what I'm doing. You are not going to sleep with anyone else at my company. If you don't like that, you can find another job. Because I wasn't joking when I said I would kill them." Ranger replied, his voice aggravatingly calm.

We didn't speak for the remainder of the trip. He had barely stopped the car when I got out and headed towards the hotel. He didn't try to catch up with me, but we still managed to end up in the same elevator. I didn't look back as I walked down the hall towards my room, nor did I look back as I let myself inside. Housekeeping had been in since I had left that morning and the condom wrapper was gone. I flopped down on the bed and reached for the remote. My annoyance with Ranger was starting to subside now that I was away from him. Maybe he had a point about me being a hypocrite, but it still rankled that he was calling me out on this. As if he hadn't slept with plenty of women. I was sure he had slept with clients at some point. And he had slept with me when we had worked together. I wasn't the only hypocrite.

I didn't see much of Ranger for the rest of the trip. Barajas avoided me, which told me that Ranger had spoken to him as well. We managed to survive the last thirty-six hours of the trip without incident and it was with a sigh of relief as we unloaded at the airport on Saturday evening. I had ridden in the car with a couple of Trenton guys rather than Ranger. But as everyone started to unload their luggage, I felt the need to clear the air before I left town. Ranger was talking to Hal next to the Cayenne, so I told Paul that I would be a minute and headed toward them.

"Can we talk for a minute?" I asked as I approached the Cayenne. Ranger nodded and Hal left without a word though I thought I may have detected a sideways glance.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," I said once Hal was out of earshot. "About everything that happened. I shouldn't have been a bitch about it. You have the right to tell your employees not to sleep with each other."

Ranger held my gaze for a minute before nodding. "Very well. Have a safe trip."

I started to turn around, but stopped to look back at him one last time. "Are we good?"

Ranger had started to turn away as well, but looked back when he heard me.

"We're good."


	10. Chapter 10

"Kill me," I begged as I flopped down in a chair in the security office's conference room. "I don't think I'll survive the rest of the week. These kids are nightmares."

"Always are before the holidays," Paul replied absentmindedly as he flipped through papers. "Even the teachers give up. Just hunker down and hold out a few more days. I don't need to be losing any staff right now."

I luxuriated in the silence for the next few minutes until the rest of the team came in and were attempting to carry on multiple conversations at once. They all took their usual seats and quieted down as Paul stood up and started clicking through slides on the wall screen.

"No reported contact or sightings of Macy Reichenbach since her parents reported her missing the day after Thanksgiving," Paul said without preamble. He was all business. "The police continue to consider her a runaway, even though her parents still insist that she has been kidnapped."

I hadn't known Macy by name, but recognized her when I had consulted her file. She was a blonde Junior who played on the lacrosse team. She was plain, didn't wear make-up, but wasn't unattractive either. From what I had observed, she wasn't very popular. She was quiet, passive, and socially awkward. She tended to eat lunch alone and a few of the boys regularly made fun of her. The teachers tended to overlook her, even though she made excellent grades. Her father was a doctor at the Mayo Clinic and her mother was a law professor. We had been notified upon returning from New York that she was missing and were told to talk to people who had regular contact with her. I had talked to several people she had classes or extracurricular activities with, but no one had any answers. And unfortunately, no one seemed to care. If Macy had indeed run away, I could understand why.

We moved on from Macy to cover our assignments over the two-and-a-half week winter break. I was assigned to patrol duty in the northern part of the city for the first week and monitor duty on night shift the second week. I kept my groan to myself. Night shift monitor duty at the Rangeman building was the most boring position, but as the new person I had to take the grunt work. Some of the more senior staff were allowed to choose their positions while others got personal protection jobs or somewhat desirable day shift positions. I noticed that Barajas wasn't listed at all.

"Did Barajas win some sort of lottery?" I asked. "Why does he get the next two weeks off?"

He grinned across the table at me. "Even better. I'm getting transferred to Trenton."

"That's great, man," Torres replied, giving Barajas one of those manly handshakes that got a little complicated. "We'll be better off without you."

The rest of the table chuckled. Barajas was popular with the group because of his personality. We would all miss him.

"We have a guy transferring from Atlanta to fill Barajas's position," Paul continued, trying to act as though he didn't care, but we all knew he did. "I'll train him the week before the students get back so he can get right into it."

We moved on to the dismissal protocols for winter break and ran through a few more housekeeping things like making sure we had our information current with Human Resources for insurance and taxes, who was to report for random drug tests immediately after the meeting, and reminders of who was due for annual physicals and performance evaluations. We left the meeting with ten minutes to spare before the students got out of their Monday convocation. I caught up to Barajas outside the security office.

"I had no idea you were trying to get transferred to Trenton," I said as we walked across campus.

"I never thought it would happen," he admitted as he pulled on sunglasses. "Trenton almost never has turnover, and there have always been guys more senior than me in line to fill position when they have opened up. I was shocked when I got the call from Tank. But it means I can see my kids every week. I can't pass that up."

I patted him on the back. "No, you can't. I'm happy for you, but I'll miss you. Who's going to show me the best beaches and restaurants? Or crack inappropriate jokes during Monday meetings? The rest of the guys aren't funny."

Barajas swung an arm over my shoulder. "You'll be fine, Plum. You can pick up the role of wiseass. I'm pretty sure you've been practicing for it your whole life." He leaned close and whispered in my ear. "Wanna fuck one last time before I leave?"

I elbowed him in the side and was satisfied to hear him groan in pain. "Not funny," I said. "You're going to be around Ranger all the time now, so you can't even think about making jokes like that. Are you worried that it will be awkward?"

Barajas grimaced as he rubbed his side and shook his head. "Nah, I apologized to him while we were still in New York and promised him that nothing would happen again. He said we were good as long as I stuck to that. I was shocked when I got offered the Trenton spot two weeks later, especially because Ranger has to approve all transfers. On second thought, maybe I got the transfer so that he could keep an eye on me and get me away from you. Just in case you couldn't keep your hands off me."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible," I muttered as he laughed and walked off in the opposite direction. But I did wonder if he had a point. Was it just a coincidence that a spot in Trenton happened to open up and that Barajas just happened to be at the top of the list for the next opening two weeks after Ranger found out that we had slept together?

I went through my day doing visual checks and logging my reports, telling myself not to worry about Barajas's transfer. Ranger wasn't the petty type, so I was going to believe that this was a stroke of good fortune for him. But I was going to miss his friendship. He was the only staff person who had taken much of an interest in me. Granted, part of it had been because he wanted to get in my pants, but that had only happened the one time and we had navigated the waters since with little awkwardness. I was going to be back at square one in the friend department once he left.

I had to spend the afternoon taking a group of students out for community service projects. Each MPA student was required to complete one-hundred hours of community service each school year. They were allowed to miss up to five classes per month in order to complete some of their hours, but the remainder were completed on weekends. When I did work weekends, I usually had to take a group of students to a soup kitchen or a nursing home and did my best not to fall asleep while they gave back to the citizens of Miami. Today's group was going to a facility that served people with developmental disabilities in job training and life skills. There were fifteen students in the group and they would be doing a variety of tasks from doing mock job interviews with people looking for jobs to helping others learn how to cook meals or make a bed. This was a regular volunteer place for the school and one that I didn't mind supervising. There would always be at least one of the participants the preferred term for the people who came there for services who would come over to ask me questions or who would just want to talk about something that interested them. I usually got at least one marriage proposal, generally from the same sweet older man who always forgot me between visits and thought it was the first time we were meeting. A few of the women would tell me they liked my hair and talk to me about their boyfriends. A younger woman often asked me about getting a job at Rangeman. The students in the group generally did a great job when out on volunteer activities, but every now and then we would have to metaphorically smack one of them upside the head for doing or saying something stupid.

By Friday afternoon, the entire school felt like it was buzzing with excitement. The staff were ready to see the kids leave, the security team was ready to see the kids leave, and the kids were ready to revolt if the dismissal bell didn't ring quickly. Campus was closed during winter break, so all students had to go home. Any students who had to leave by train or plane were escorted to the appropriate transportation center by a staff member or Rangeman employee depending on their security tier, but once they were confirmed to be beyond security checkpoints, we were no longer responsible. I wanted to skip out of the airport as I left the Trevinos, Faheds, and several other students with their respective private planes. I enjoyed my job, but I was ready for a break from those kids. Unfortunately, I couldn't leave the airport just yet. My parents had decided this year to take a cruise for Christmas since I was in Miami and Albert and Valerie were going to be in California so that Mary Lou and Angie could spend part of their winter break with their father. They were leaving from Miami and were spending the night with me at Rangeman before disembarking the next day. I planned to take them to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants before my father installed himself in the living room for the evening in front of Ranger's massive television.

"Things have certainly changed since the last time I flew anywhere," my mother informed me an hour later as we drove through Miami. "The seats were so close together I couldn't cross my legs and your father was so cramped I thought he wouldn't be able to get out of the seat."

"You used to be able to smoke on planes," my father grumbled from the backseat. "Now you can't smoke anywhere. Damn political correctness."

"I think that's more _damn lung cancer_ than political correctness," I replied.

"Why do you care, Frank?" my mother asked, pulling down the visor to look at my father in the mirror. "You told me you gave up the cigars last year when your brother was diagnosed with emphysema. You did give them up, didn't you?"

"I said I did, didn't I?"

I listened to my parents bicker the rest of the way back to the Rangeman building, but I didn't mind. I spent my days surrounded by hundreds of teenagers. My parents had nothing on them. We unloaded their bags and took the elevator up to the top floor. I was putting my parents up in my bedroom and I was sleeping in Ranger's for the night.

"This is extravagant," my mother said as we stepped off the elevator. "Maybe you should marry Ranger after all."

I blew out a slow, calming breath in lieu of hitting my head on the door as I unlocked it. Of all times for my mother to start approving of Ranger and wanting me to marry him, this was not it.

"Just wait until you see the place," I said. I was about to make an over-exaggerated gesture of the high-ceilinged living room when I realized Ranger was there. I could see him working at his office space on the loft. Crap. I wasn't sure how thrilled he would be that my parents were in his apartment without his knowledge.

"Hey," I said as I ushered my parents inside. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"I wasn't planning to be here until tomorrow morning, but decided to come down early," he replied as he came down the staircase.

"My parents are leaving on a cruise in the morning and I had said they could stay in my bedroom here for the night," I explained. "I was just going to get them settled in my room and then we were going to go out for dinner."

Ranger shook hands with my parents. "Welcome to Miami. Where are you going on your cruise?"

"Around the Caribbean. A couple of different islands, Cozumel, and Belize. We'll be gone eight days," my mother said. "We've never been on a cruise."

I showed my parents to my room and gave them time to get settled while I hurried back to talk to Ranger.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't know you were going to be here. I should have asked first."

"Babe," he said. "I don't mind. It's more your place than mine anyway."

"I was going to stay in your room, but I'll take the couch since you're here. I'll just grab my things."

Ranger grabbed my wrist before I could get too far away. "You don't have to sleep on the couch. We can share a bed without getting physical."

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure my parents weren't nearby. "My parents are next door. I wouldn't be comfortable sharing a bed with you no matter what. Not to mention all of the stuff we've already talked about. It's fine. I'll sleep downstairs."

He stared at me for a long minute and I stared back. Sensing that I wouldn't back down, he let go of my wrist. "You don't need to take your things out. You can change in my room and use my shower in the morning."

"Thanks. Do you want to go to dinner with us? We're going to that Italian place a couple of blocks over called _Luigi's._ I figured my parents would like it."

"I'll pass. I have work to do, but have fun with your parents," he said. "Are you busy tomorrow night?"

I shook my head.

"I need a date. I've been invited to the Governor's Christmas party. Normally I'd rather eat a bullet, but he's hosting it in Miami this year, and I've decided to use the opportunity to drum up business. But I need someone with better social skills to come with me."

A fancy party with Ranger sounded like fun, and I didn't have anything else to do. "Sure. But I don't think I have anything nice to wear. I wasn't expecting to need a formal dress working at a school."

Ranger reached into his pocket and pulled a credit card out of a holder. "Get whatever you need."

There had been another time when Ranger had needed me to accompany him to a fancy work gig and had given me a corporate Rangeman card to buy something to wear. I hadn't had as much notice on that occasion and had been forced to make a purchase quickly. I could take a little more time with this one. It wasn't until I went to put it in my wallet a few minutes later that I looked more carefully at the card. It was a black American Express issued to Ricardo C. Manoso, not Rangeman. Was this a personal or professional date? Ranger had said he was planning to try to get new business. I told myself not to worry about it and put the card away. Whether he used a personal or business card didn't have to change the boundaries of the date. Ranger wasn't the type that would expect you to put out as a thank you for the favors he had done.

After dinner we dropped my father off at Rangeman so he could watch television while my mother and I went shopping. I ended up with a black, backless dress, three-inch heels, a small handbag, and a thin necklace with faux-sapphires that hung down my back with matching earrings and bracelet. The fact that I had kept the cost under seven hundred dollars made me feel good about myself. We found my father and Ranger sitting in the living room with beers in their hands while they silently watched the end of a football game. It hit me in that moment that while they were vastly different in life paths and experiences, my father and Ranger were similar in personality type. Both silent, stoic men who demonstrated their feelings through actions instead of words. Much different than the hot-headed Morelli had been. I pushed that revelation to the furthest point in my mind.

My parents made their way up to bed a few minutes later once the game was over. I bid them good night and went up to Ranger's bedroom to change into my pajamas. Ranger walked into the dressing room while I was standing around in nothing but my underwear.

"Babe," he said quietly as he gave me a once-over. I hurriedly pulled on my t-shirt. Mostly out of fear that I might throw myself at him if I stood around almost naked for a millisecond longer.

"Will you wake me up when you come downstairs in the morning?" I asked as I quickly pulled on a pair of cotton shorts.

"You can still sleep up here. We could wake up together. And it would be a lot more enjoyable."

"I'll pass," I said. "See you in the morning."

I tried to get past Ranger without touching him, but he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. He didn't try to kiss me, but he held me for a minute before letting go. I didn't make eye contact as I left the room. That was the closest we had been both physically and emotionall y since I told him that I had slept with Barajas. He was trying to act as though there hadn't been any problem between us, but I could tell things felt off. Maybe it was my parents' presence that was making things different. But whether that was for better or worse was unknown.

Once I had seen my parents off the next morning, I had to work patrol duty from seven to three-thirty in north Miami with a man named Eduardo. He was in his forties and looked like he had stepped out of the eighties. I didn't know how exactly he managed it considering we were wearing the exact same black t-shirt and black cargo pants, but he did. I think it was the hair. He also had a surprisingly high-pitched, unctuous voice for someone who looked like he could lift a car. He spent the day talking my ear off about his wife, his girlfriend, and his pit bull. He was nice enough, but I was grateful to escape him that afternoon. Ranger and I were supposed to be at the Governor's party at eight, so I had a few hours before I had to start getting ready. I had been up since five, so I took a nap, grabbed a light snack in case the food at party wasn't great, and took a shower. I had finished my hair and was doing the last touches on my make-up when Ranger knocked on my door at seven o'clock.

"Thirty-minute warning, Babe," he said. I heard him walk down the hallway to his own room, presumably to get ready. I pulled on my dress and shoes, checked my hair and make-up one last time, loaded up my handbag, and headed downstairs. Ranger was standing in the middle of the living room talking on his cell phone as I came down the stairs. He was dressed in a perfectly-fitted tux and I felt my mouth go dry. God, the man was gorgeous. His eyes were on me as he finished his conversation and ended the call.

"Babe," he said, twirling one finger around in the air. I did a slow spin for him so that he could take in the entire look.

"Will I do?" I asked.

"Definitely."

Ranger moved towards me and made to put his hands on me, but I put my hand on his chest.

"This is a work thing," I reminded him. "Keep it professional."

I thought I saw what might have been a flicker of annoyance, but if it had been there it disappeared in the blink of an eye. He picked up his keys from the nearby table and I followed him silently to the car. I was surprised to find his Cayenne parked in spot number one. I thought maybe it was a new one, but when I saw the New Jersey plates on the car, I realized it wasn't. Had he driven all the way from Trenton? I knew the drive was a long one, and it made no sense that he would have done it. I waited until he had pulled out of the garage and was driving through downtown Miami before I asked him about it.

"Did you drive here?" I asked.

"Yes. I stopped in Atlanta on my way down."

"Why would you ," I began, but was interrupted by my phone ringing. I checked the display. Barajas.

"What's up, Plum?" Barajas asked when I answered.

"I'm out with Ranger. We're going to the Governor's Christmas party to help find more people to keep us employed. You?"

"I'm packing up my shit. I thought I'd see if you wanted to help me, but clearly not since you get to go to some fancy party," he said. "Unless you wanna ditch the party for some cold pizza and beer."

"Tempting, but I'll pass this time. When are you leaving town? Maybe we can get together between now and then," I suggested.

"I'm heading out Monday morning. Wanna hang out tomorrow?"

"I'm on patrol until three-thirty, but I'm free after that. Just text me a time and place."

I disconnected from Barajas and turned to continue my conversation with Ranger, but was struck by the expression on his face and his body language. It was clear that he wasn't in the mood to talk. I kept my mouth shut and was nearly cried with relief as we pulled up a large hotel ten minutes later. We left the car with the valet and were instructed to follow signs to a large ballroom.

We each accepted a glass of champagne as we walked into the room. There were around forty, eight-person tables set up around a large dance floor. The Christmas décor was classy and understated. The Governor and his wife were old money that had transplanted from Virginia to Florida twenty years earlier. I saw them standing to one side of the room greeting their guests.

"Carlos Manoso. Glad to see you came," Governor Jones said as we approached. He shook Ranger's hand firmly and turned his attention to me. "And who is your lovely date?"

"This is Stephanie Plum. She works for me," Ranger replied. I smiled cordially, praying that I didn't give away any indicator that something in his tone had bothered me. I wanted to just be an employee tonight. That's what I had told him. But it had still hurt to hear the detached, emotionless way he had said my name.

I shook hands with the Governor and his wife before following Ranger around the room. I gulped half my champagne in an effort to squelch my emotions.

"Are you looking at anyone in particular to pursue or are you just seeing who is here?" I asked. Keeping it professional. That was why he had brought me after all.

"A little of both. I have some people in mind, but I'm keeping an eye out for anyone else who might provide business."

I saw two actors from recently popular movies, a musician who also had a child at MPA, and a couple of high-profile business leaders. Ranger and I made our way around the room, occasionally stopping to speak to someone. The first person we pursued as a Rangeman client turned out to be the CEO of a major bank in the area. Ranger gave most of the pitch for that one because the older man turned out to be just as no-nonsense as he was. We left him with a business and the promise of arranging a meeting.

"That was a good start," I commented as we walked away. I noticed Ranger hadn't touched me once since we had left Rangeman, but he was standing close. Had he been mad that I was making plans with Barajas? I would ask him later. I didn't want him to think anything was going on other than friendship.

"It was. He would bring in a good amount of business. I would be able to turn some contractors into full-time employees."

We were headed across the room to talk to a woman Ranger had identified as the president of the University of Miami when someone said his name. We both turned to see a stunning redhead making her way towards us. She was about my height, maybe a few years older than me. A tight green dress covered a voluptuous hour-glass figure. I slid a glance in Ranger's direction and saw a small smile on his lips and glimmer in his eye that made me uncomfortable. The redhead reached out for him as soon as she was within reach and kissed him on the cheek.

"I can't believe you're here, Carlos," she said, her voice practically a purr. I nearly rolled my eyes. Surely that wasn't her real voice.

"Hello, Jenna," he replied. "It's been a while."

"Three years," she said, running a hand over his arm in a way that told me they had done more than just talk about security cameras. "That's more than a while. What have you been doing?"

"Working."

She rolled her own eyes and shook her head. "Of course. Some things never change." She glanced in my direction. "And who is your date?"

"This is Stephanie. She's one of my employees. She possesses the social skills that I lack for these types of situations," he replied, barely sparing a glance at me. I watched his eyes flicker over her breasts, which were much larger than mine and popped out of the top of the dress. She extended a hand and I shook it.

"It's nice to meet you, Stephanie," she said with a fake smile before turning back to Ranger. "I was worried you might have settled down and not told me."

Ranger chuckled. "Some things never change."

I took a second champagne off of a passing tray and drank deeply, barely resisting the urge to hit Ranger over the head with the glass. If he had been annoyed with me for making plans with Barajas, this must be his revenge.

A gong sounded somewhere, indicating that dinner was about to be served. We found our seats and discovered we had been placed at the same table as the president of the university. We spent the meal time talking to about the current security situation on campus and what she would like to see done differently. My chicken in a white wine reduction tasted like sawdust as I watched Ranger occasionally glance across the room at Jenna Bigboobs, who kept her eyes on him the entire time. After the meal and an invitation to start dancing from the Governor, everyone left their seats to head either to the open bar or the dance floor. Ranger and I made our way over to a concert promoter who was next on the list. He was an amiable man in his forties who asked me to dance while we carried on our conversation. I grimaced at Ranger behind the man's back, but doubted he noticed because Jenna had swooped in as soon as she saw me being pulled away. I half-listened to the concert promoter talk about what he was wanting in a security provider while I slid covert glances over at Ranger and Jenna. They were an attractive couple two ridiculously good-looking people dancing and talking as though they were the only two in the room. It made my heart sink as I watched them. As much as I told Ranger I only wanted a professional relationship and friendship with him because I knew he could never give me more than that, my heart hadn't been able to completely get on board with that fact just yet. It still stupidly hoped for a commitment while my brain screamed at me that it wasn't going to happen. When the song ended, I gave the concert promoter a business card and thanked him for considering Rangeman for his security needs. Ranger and Jenna were still dancing as the next song began to play, so I took my seat and waited for him to be finished. I didn't know who the next potential client might be, so I had no one to engage in conversation.

My annoyance and hurt flared with every passing minute. It was obvious to me what Jenna was doing. I wasn't sure if it was obvious to Ranger or not. I suspected it was, and that he liked it. After they continued to dance through another song, I brought up Über on my phone and hailed a car. Satisfied that someone could pick me up in five minutes, I grabbed my bag, sent a text to Ranger to say that I had gotten a ride home, and left the room without a backwards glance.


	11. Chapter 11

My Über driver was a young woman with closely-cropped black hair, multiple piercings, and tattoos. She was dressed like she was headed to a grunge concert after her shift and drove a blue, four-door Honda Civic. I got in the back and we drove silently to the Rangeman building. I was glad she wasn't the chatty type because I wasn't in the mood. I wanted to go home and go to bed because in the morning I was going to have to talk to Ranger about all of this. I shook my head and bit the inside of my cheek as I thought about it. All I did was make plans _innocent_ plans at that with a coworker who is getting ready to move away, and he got mad about it and spent the evening giving me the Ranger-version of a cold shoulder and flirting with a sexy redhead. And I intended to ask him if he had granted Barajas's transfer to Trenton because of what happened in New York. It all seemed too convenient.

I nearly ripped my dress as I pulled it off and threw it into a corner of my closet. I haphazardly tossed the jewelry on the dresser and pulled on pajamas. I wasn't sure which emotion was stronger: anger or hurt. Did I have a right to be hurt? Probably not. I had been the one to put up the boundaries. I was the one who insisted on keeping things professional. But even if I didn't have the right to be hurt, I was. I didn't want this. This distance wasn't because I wanted it, but because I knew I needed it. It had been for reasons just like this, though as it turned out I was going to get hurt no matter what. And maybe I didn't have the right to be angry either, but I was definitely furious. I was angry that he felt like he had the right to throw Jenna in my face just because I made plans with Barajas. Did he have so little trust in me and my word not to mention Barajas–to think that we would lie and try to sneak around and sleep together behind his back? We weren't teenagers trying to outsmart our parents. We were adults and professionals who respected our boss. I threw myself in bed and pulled the covers over my head. I needed to relax before I approached Ranger with all of this. Otherwise my head might starting spinning around in a complete circle while I spit pea soup.

The need to empty my bladder woke me up two hours later. I stumbled to my bathroom, took care of business, and was on my way back to bed when I heard noise from downstairs. Probably Ranger coming in from the party. I felt a little more in control than I had when I went to bed, so there was no better time than the present to deal with this. I opened the door and looked out over the railing, but his name died on my lips once I caught sight of him.

Ranger was naked and reclined in the middle of the sofa with an equally-naked Jenna riding him. His mouth was latched on to one of her enormous boobs and she was groaning like someone in a porno. I was so stunned I couldn't move. Even though I had known what she was up to, and that he would likely go along with it, I hadn't expected it to happen here. In the apartment we were sharing. In the living room where I could easily see it. Ranger was forced to take his mouth off her as she leaned back, riding him harder and faster, nearly screaming as she came. Her hair was starting to fall down out of its updo and her skin was ivory and flawless, making his skin look darker. She got off his lap, knelt on the floor in front of him and took him in her mouth. I wanted move, to run into my bedroom and pretend I hadn't seen any of this, but I felt like my legs wouldn't support me. I was sure if I attempted to move an inch that I would fall to the floor and heave.

"Babe," he moaned as she took him deeper. Hearing him call her Babe felt like a punched to the head. It disoriented me and I actually had to grab onto the railing for support. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes in pleasure. He never closed his eyes when we were together. What did that mean? When he opened them again a few seconds later, he looked right at me while he came. That was all I needed to make my feet move again. I went back into my bedroom and quietly shut the door. I didn't want Jenna to know that I had seen them together. Not out of embarrassment, but because I didn't want her to give the smug look of a woman who knows she has power over another. I would probably punch her in her perfect face, she would have me arrested, and I'd end up in jail. If I was going to jail for assaulting anyone, it would be Ranger.

I don't know how long I sat in the dark on the end of my bed. I was numb, vaguely aware of more noise coming from downstairs. I heard the murmur of both voices, more sex sounds, and eventually the sound of her high heels clicking across the floor. The door to the apartment shut seconds later. I heard Ranger walk upstairs and go into his bedroom. I took a few moments to gather myself before I stalked out of the room and down the hall. I burst into his room and found him stripping off his pants.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" I asked, pointing towards the living room. Ranger raised an eyebrow at me.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play stupid," I spat. "What the hell was that? It was bad enough watching you drool all over her at the party, but then you bring her back and screw her in the living room where you know I'm going to see it? I never thought you could be so petty and vengeful, _Carlos,"_ I said, imitating Jenna's purr as she said his name.

He gave an incredulous laugh and shook his head. "What the hell is this? I thought this was work and you're just an employee. My employees don't get access to my personal life."

"I tried to keep it professional," I shouted, waving my hands in frustration. "You were the one who got yourself into a pissy mood before we went into the party and then spent the evening trying to figure out how to get back at me. Did you know Jenna would be there, or was that just a pleasant addition to your little revenge plan?"

Ranger reached for a glass on the table and threw back the contents in one drink. Scotch, maybe whiskey. I had never since him drink hard liquor before. Nor had I seen him be so emotional.

"Why do you think I was _pissy_?" he asked. "Maybe because you were busy making plans to run off with Barajas tomorrow?"

"It was just to hang out before he leaves town!" I said. "Nothing has happened between us since New York. We both promised you nothing would and nothing has. Why can't you trust me?"

"Why can't I trust what you say to be true?" Ranger asked sardonically. "Because you are constantly contradicting yourself. You tell me you need space, you want to keep things professional, yet you make it clear to me that it isn't what you really want. So I try to ease my way in, and you push me away. You tell me you need to keep it professional because you work for my company and it would be a bad idea to get physical. But then you turn around and sleep with someone you work with on a daily basis. So how am I supposed to take you at your word when you don't follow through on it?"

"That was a mistake. I didn't plan it. And I didn't do it intentionally to hurt you. What you did was meant to hurt me," I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

"Not everything is about you, Stephanie. I haven't had sex in a while, and Jenna is a good fuck. I was glad to run into her," he said quietly.

I could have screamed until my throat was raw at the way he was behaving. Who was this man? Where was the Ranger I knew? Or thought I had known. I cast at glance at the table behind him and saw that there was a half-empty bottle of scotch next to the empty glass. Was he drunk?

"How much have you had to drink?" I asked, lifting my chin in the direction of the bottle.

"That's another area of my life that my employees do not get to question or judge," he replied simply. He turned around and poured himself another glass. He swallowed it before turning to face me again.

"Just stop with the employee nonsense, okay? This stopped being anything remotely related to work when you confronted me about sleeping with Barajas, told me you would kill him if it ever happened again, and then set up to transfer him out of here as soon as you could just to get me away from him."

Ranger gave me a strange look, as though I had just made some outlandish statement that I claimed was fact. He walked over to me, his body so close I could feel the heat radiating from him.

"I don't think I ever realized how self-absorbed you are until now," he said softly. "Do you really think I transferred Barajas to Trenton just to get him away from you?"

"It crossed my mind. The timing seemed convenient."

"We gained a large contract in Trenton and I needed two more people for full-time spots. I happened to have several people who wanted transfers and Barajas was one of them. Barajas and a new hire will be in Trenton, a guy from Boston got moved to Atlanta, a guy from Atlanta is coming to MPA, and a new person is starting in Boston. Not to mention Barajas has young children that I know he would like to see more often. All things that had absolutely nothing to do with you," he said, emphasizing the last few words.

"I don't know this person," I replied. "I don't know this Ranger who gets drunk and calls me self-absorbed and sleeps with another woman when he knows I can see it and calls her _Babe._ I thought you loved me. You don't hurt someone you love like this."

The annoying, mildly-amused look Ranger had held onto the entire conversation suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a dangerous one.

"You have no room to talk about hurting someone you claim to love." His voice was so low it was practically a whisper. "None."

"What's what supposed to mean?" I asked, wanting desperately to back away from him but knowing that I couldn't do that and hold my ground. "Because I slept with Barajas on a "

"IT ISN'T ABOUT FUCKING BARAJAS!" Ranger shouted. He was enraged and I didn't care about holding my ground any longer. I backed several steps away from him, my pulse racing. He also backed up, went back to the bedside table, grabbed the scotch and drank straight from the bottle.

"Then what?" I asked after a full minute of silence. My voice quivered and I wasn't sure how much longer I would be able to stand.

"You were pregnant with my child," he said quietly. "And you put yourself and it at risk by working a dangerous job, and you lost it. And you only told me about it because you slipped up." He drank more deeply from the scotch. "That's some way of showing your love."

I was stunned. I had known when I told him that he had been bothered by the news, but then he had seemed to move on from it and I had interpreted that to mean that the matter was settled. Apparently I had been dead wrong.

"So you've been holding that against me? All this time?"

"Did you expect that I would just forget about it and move on?"

"You walked out when I told you about it, but after that you didn't seem that bothered by it. How am I supposed to interpret that?" I asked. "And how am I supposed to know anything when you don't tell me anything?"

"You couldn't possibly consider that it would bother me? Not only the news, but the fact that you kept it from me for over a year?" he asked incredulously. "I realize I'm not the most forthcoming person when it relates to emotions, but I'm not a robot. You can hurt me. You more than anyone else."

I felt tears prick my eyes. "Ranger, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was going to tell you, I planned on it, but you were out of town and then I lost it. And I didn't want to talk about it to anyone. I wanted to put it behind me."

Ranger stared at me for a long moment, and I thought he must be finally softening. "That's such bullshit, Stephanie. You could have told me on the phone while I was gone. You could have told me afterwards. But you didn't want to have to own up to the fact that it was your fault that you lost it."

"What?!" I shrieked, internally cringing at the octave my voice reached. "I got shoved down the stairs."

"Doing a job that a pregnant woman has no business doing!" Ranger shot back. "You intentionally put yourself at risk, and as a result our baby died." He shook his head as he took another long drag off the bottle. "You have no idea what that did to me. We could have been a family. This would have been our baby's first Christmas. You stole that from all of us."

A sob escaped me before I even realized it was there. I covered my mouth and nose while I tried to get myself under control. My brain was trying to sort through all of the information it was taking in, but all that was translating back to me was pain. I looked back at Ranger and through my tears I realized he wasn't sympathetic to my tears. He was angered by them.

"You asked why I drove to Miami. The reason I drove here is because I planned to move down here full-time. I wanted to tell you that I was ready to commit to a real relationship with you. But like everything else, you've just managed to fuck it all up." He walked over towards me again and I could tell he was having difficulty with a straight line. He was really drunk. I was leaned up against the wall and he braced his arms on either side of me.

"I don't think I want that anymore. You can't make up your goddamned mind about anything, and apparently I'm just a petty, vengeful asshole," he said quietly. "I knew there was always a reason why I didn't do relationships, and you've reminded me of that tonight. I'm done playing by your rules. At least I'm consistent with mine. So here are your choices: either get in my bed and spread your legs, or get out. I'm not negotiating with you anymore, Babe."

I wasn't sure if it was the malice in his voice, the ultimatum, or the memory of him calling Jenna _Babe_ in the throes of passion, but a flash of rage coursed through me that was so strong I kneed Ranger in the stomach, knocking him backwards.

"Don't you ever call me babe again," I said, looking down at him. "You and I are done. We don't have anything to discuss anymore. You aren't my direct supervisor, or even my supervisor's direct supervisor. So unless Paul and Marco happen to drop dead at the exact same time, you have no reason to speak to me."

I hurried out his room, stalked off to my own, and locked myself in. I leaned against the door with my heart still pounding. I didn't know if he would come after me or not, but I knew I was pissed off and if he did, things would end badly.

I took a few minutes to pull myself together and figure out my next move. I couldn't stay here, not after this. Even if he sobered up in the morning, we had done damage to whatever it was we had. I couldn't face him day-after-day. It only took me an hour-and-a-half to pack up my boxes and suitcases and get dressed for work. It was amazing how efficient I could be when I was pissed off. It was five-thirty as I opened my door and looked around for Ranger. He wasn't in the common area and his bedroom door was closed. He was probably still asleep considering we had been screaming about each other until four and he had been very drunk. I quietly wheeled my suitcases past his door and carried them down to the apartment door. I had to carry my boxes one at a time, but still managed it without having to face Ranger as I left. I piled everything into the elevator and rode down to the parking garage. I left my belongings by the elevator while I went to get my car. I loaded it up and pulled out of the garage without incident.

As I drove through the city, I wondered where the hell I was going to be able to afford to live while I finished paying off my lease in Trenton. Rent was high in Miami, and I was on a time crunch to pay off my lease before they turned it over to collections. I pulled over into a McDonald's parking lot and searched for hotels while I ate a breakfast sandwich and drank a Coke. A few had such horrid reviews that I wouldn't have considered them even if they were free. Most were well above my price range. A couple seemed decent enough that I would check them out. I only had an hour before my shift started, but decided I would call in late and ask Eduardo to pick me up somewhere on the patrol route. That would give me time to check out the two motels and pray they would give me a decent rate.

The first place was in northern Downtown Miami. It was a chain hotel, looked fairly clean and seemed to be popular with families from the people I saw in the lot. The rooms had indoor entrance, which made them a little more secure. I went to the desk, explained that I was between roommate situations right now, and was wanting to rent on a weekly or possibly monthly basis. I was given numbers for either option that made my head spin. I tried to negotiate, but they wouldn't budge. The next place was in the Wynwood district, which is known for nightclubs. It was at the motel end of the hotel spectrum. It wasn't part of a chain and was run by what looked like an Indian or Pakistani family. It looked respectable enough for a mid-priced hooker to bring a john for business or for a jaded, low-level salesperson to crash for the night. The sign boasted free wi-fi and a continental breakfast. I went into the lobby and waited at the front desk until a middle-aged woman approached.

"How can I help you?" she asked in a thick accent.

"I'm needing a place to stay for possibly a few weeks, up to three months. I had an argument with my roommate and had to move out, but I can't afford Miami rent just yet until I finish paying off my lease. I was wondering what the price would be for something like that?" I asked, trying to be as pleasant as I possibly could while I was sure I looked like shit.

The woman gave me a once over. "Are you prostitute? We don't like prostitutes here, but we know they get in sometimes."

"No, I'm not a prostitute," I said. I reached into my purse and pulled out my Rangeman ID. "I'm a security guard at a local private school. I've had all kinds of background checks. I'm a good person. I just need somewhere affordable to stay."

She continued to flick her eyes back and forth between me and my ID. She was joined by a middle-aged man and they conversed in their native language for what felt like forever. Then she offered me up a number that wasn't outrageous, but still higher than my budget could afford. I winced and replaced my identification.

"Thanks, but that's really more than I can afford," I said with a weak smile. "Is there any sort of arrangement we can work out?"

"That _is_ an arrangement!" the woman shouted. "I feel sorry for you and give you good offer. This place is not free. We give you breakfast and clean your room. That costs money."

"What if I didn't eat the breakfast and I cleaned my own room?" I asked, crossing my fingers under the counter.

She and the man resumed their conversation in whatever language they were speaking and after lots of gesturing, what sounded like mild yelling, and an exasperated sigh from the man, he walked away and she gave me an offer that fell right within my budget. I nearly cried in relief. I thanked her profusely, discussed the payment arrangement, and was given a room key to what they said was a room that was rarely used because they saved it for when they have family visiting. It was on the second floor, furthest from the staircase, and it felt like a long walk with my luggage. I was relieved to see that the room was nice and clean with a surprisingly nice refrigerator and microwave and flat screen television. The woman introduced herself as Sakina and gave me cleaning supplies so I could take care of the room on my own. I thanked her for her kindness, locked up, and hurried off to the place where I was supposed to meet Eduardo in thirty minutes.

Ranger tried to call me the first time around eight-thirty. I ignored the call and set about making a list of things I needed to buy. I didn't have a freezer, so frozen meals were out of the question. But the refrigerator was a decent size. I ignored the text message that came through while I continued to type my list on my phone. I had somehow managed to compartmentalize everything with Ranger because I hadn't felt anything when I saw his name come up on my phone. But I knew it would hit me later, and it would hit hard. I added alcohol and chocolate to my list. He tried calling me twice more during the day, but I continued to ignore the calls. Today I was grateful for Eduardo's rambling. It meant I didn't need to talk and would have something to distract me. I had a feeling I was going to need a lot to distract me moving forward.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: Another Ranger chapter.**_

I am immediately alert upon waking up. It wasn't a skill I picked up in the Army, but one I developed as a boy. I shared a room with my older brother, who took pleasure in trying to torment me while I slept. After hitting myself in the face with shaving cream, having cold water poured on my crotch, and numerous variations on emergencies that startled me awake, I became hypervigilant to the sound of a person moving, the creaks of the floor boards, and the rustle of sheets. I would immediately wake up to any of those, prepared to fight him off when he came my way. The pranks stopped by the time I was eight because he couldn't catch me off-guard anymore.

Today was an exception. The second I became aware of the orange glow from behind my eyelids I knew I was in for one hell of a hangover. I put a hand over my eyes as I slowly opened them and realized the view of my bedroom was different. Over the next few seconds I became painfully aware that I was laying on my bedroom floor, naked, hungover, and that something awful had happened. I winced as I sat up, not from dizziness but from a pain in my abdomen. I noticed a bruise in the lower portion of my torso and the memory of Stephanie bringing her knee up to hit me flashed through my head. Along with memories of calling her self-absorbed, blaming her for the miscarriage, having sex with Jenna in the living room and knowing Stephanie had seen us. I groaned as I got up from the floor, tempted to throw myself through the window for my stupidity. I needed to talk to her, but wasn't sure if I should go straight to her room or attempt to make myself more human with a shower and clothing first. I glanced at the clock and saw it was just after eight. She was on shift today and would already be gone.

As I showered, the horrors of the night before continued to hit me in waves. I had been excited for last night. More excited than I had been about anything for a while. I had planned to tell her that I was moving down to Miami and that I was ready to give her more. I had pictured us leaving the party early, barely able to keep our hands off each other until we got inside the privacy of the apartment. Stephanie and I were supposed to be the ones who had sex on the living room sofa. But I had been disappointed before we even got out of the apartment by her brush-off. She had been in one of her _determined to keep it professional_ moods and it had immediately taken some of the anticipation out of me. When she asked why I had driven down to Miami, I had felt better for a few seconds before her phone rang and I realized she was making plans to meet Barajas the next day. At that moment, something in me snapped. I suddenly had no desire to tell her that I wanted a relationship. I wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt me. I'm not vengeful person by nature–I tend to find anger a fairly useless emotion, but last night I let it consume me. And it may have ruined my one chance at a normal life.

I tried to call her before I left the apartment to tell her that we needed to talk once she got off work, but the phone went to voicemail after one ring. I didn't leave a message, but sent a text instead.

 _ **We need to talk after your shift.**_

I didn't receive any sort of reply throughout the day as I did paperwork. Thankfully it was a Sunday and I didn't have client meetings. I hadn't been this hungover in years. There was a reason I didn't drink more than a beer or a glass of wine and why I stayed away from hard liquor, and that reason laid itself bare last night. I am a mean drunk. All I have any desire to do while drunk is fight and fuck. Last night I did both, and with the wrong people.

Not hearing back from Stephanie kept me on edge. I had assumed she was working, but hadn't actually checked. To give myself something to do, I consulted the early shift notes and realized she had called in to say she would be late to work and asked that the man working with her, Eduardo Alvarez, pick her up at a public garage in Wynwood at eight. Had she gone out last night after I passed out? My first instinct was to assume she had gone to sleep with Barajas to get back at me. But I knew he lived in Coral Way, so it seemed unlikely. I took a beat to settle myself before pulling up the security footage from the foyer outside of my apartment. I went back to when I remembered Jenna leaving around three-thirty and fast forwarded until movement caught my eye around five-forty. Stephanie came out to the foyer and called the elevator with a suitcase in hand. I watched her place the suitcase in front of one of the doors and then carry in two boxes and a second suitcase. By five-fifty, she had loaded up her car and pulled out of the garage.

I immediately tried calling her again, but was once again sent straight to voicemail. If she wouldn't respond to a text message or answer my phone call, I doubted she would listen to a voicemail and didn't bother leaving one. I spent the next few hours fielding questions from employees and working on an itinerary for a musician utilizing Rangeman for security while in Miami for two concerts the following week. I had to keep busy in order to not drive myself insane while I waited for Stephanie's shift to end. My plan was to meet her at her car and talk to her if she didn't answer my next call. I couldn't let her go on thinking I had meant the things I said. I felt pretty sure that my real feelings were valid in regards to the pregnancy and to her seemingly contradictory behavior of keeping her distance with me and then sleeping with Barajas, but unfortunately I hadn't told her my actual feelings on those matter. What I had unloaded on her had been all of the horrible, extreme thoughts that go through your head when you're furious with someone. The ones that you immediately know aren't what you truly believe, but work as a form of catharsis to help you rein in the anger. The thoughts that you aren't supposed to say out loud.

I left the building at three and headed to the parking garage where she had left her car. I attempted to call her again, but was sent to voicemail. I found her car on the second level, but had to drive up to the fourth level to find a place to park. I was waiting by the driver-side door when the Rangeman patrol car pulled up and she climbed out of the passenger seat. I heard her say goodbye to Alvarez and shut the door. She was pulling her keys out her messenger bag when she spotted me.

"We need to talk," I said. The look on her face was indecipherable. I couldn't tell if she was angry, hurt, or numb. Probably a combination. She unlocked the car and walked around me to open her door, but I put a hand on it to stop her.

"We have nothing to talk about," she said quietly. She didn't look at me, but stared at her own reflection in the glass.

"Then just listen," I said. She tried to open her door again and I didn't stop her this time. She climbed into the car and threw her messenger bag on the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night," I said. I had my body between her seat and the door, preventing her from closing it and driving away. "I didn't mean any of those things that I said. And I'm sorry about what happened with Jenna. I was angry and I was drunk. I'm mean when I'm drunk."

She still hadn't looked at me. She had her keys in her hand and was staring at the concrete wall in front of her car. She was pale and had dark circles under her eyes from no sleep and emotional distress. She hadn't bothered to put on make-up. Her hair was in a ponytail that was frizzy from the humidity of the day.

"Get out of the way so I can leave," she said quietly. Her voice was monotonous, as though she were numb to everything around her.

"Babe," I said softly, and I went to put my hand on her leg, but she slapped me hard across the cheek.

"I told you not to call me that again!" she snapped. "Not after you called her that last night when she was sucking your dick."

Her voice echoed around the garage, providing an interesting soundtrack to anyone walking to their car. I raised my hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," I said. "About all of it. You don't need to move out of the apartment. I'll leave if that's what you want."

She started the car and put it in reverse. "Get out of my way or get run over."

I stepped back so she could shut her door and watched as she drove away. I could hear the screeching of her tires on the cement as she turned each corner. When the garage went quiet, I knew she had pulled out onto the busy street. I felt worse than if she had run over me as I walked back up to my car. I worried that she might never be able to forgive for what I had done. And even if she did manage that someday, what we had might be damaged irreparably. I sat in my car for a while as I debated my next move. I could keep trying to talk to her. I could track her movements and she what she was doing. Or I could give her space. Talking to her was what I wanted to do, but giving her space was what I needed to do.

I resisted the urge to talk to Stephanie over the next two days. I satisfied myself with finding out that she was staying at a motel in Wynwood. Not the best area, but far from the worst. I had staked out the place long enough to know that she was staying in room 258. I wondered what she would do for Christmas on her own. Stephanie wasn't the type to relish spending the holidays alone like I was. I would be doing so if I knew it wouldn't result in fifty phone calls and a visit from my parents if I failed to show up. I stopped at the motel on Christmas Day, even though it was out of the way from my parents' house in Little Havana, and had an internal debate for about fifteen minutes. I wanted her to have the gift I had bought for her, but knew she wouldn't accept it from me if I handed it to her. There was too much visibility for me to slip into her room, plus she might wake up. I opted to leave it in her car. I used a universal key fob to unlock the door. The car smelled like her. And french fries, which made me smile. I placed the slender box underneath the visor, made sure it would hold, and quietly locked the car again. I had no idea what she would do it. But that wasn't anything I could control.

Holiday traditions in my family had changed since my parents' moved to Miami two years ago. Two of my sisters and my brother were still in Newark while my other two sisters were in New York City and until a week ago I had been in Trenton. My parents and grandmothers now flew to Newark where we all gathered at my oldest sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner, which we always held the day after because Thanksgiving Day tended to be claimed by my job and my siblings' in-laws. Christmas dinner, which had always been held on Christmas Eve because of the same reasons as Thanksgiving, was now a divided affair. If you could make it to Miami, dinner would be held on Christmas Day. If not, then my sister Sofia conducted dinner at her house where she hosted both sides of her family in one meal. Sofia was the least likely to leave town for the foreseeable future because she had four young children. My sisters in New York were both childless and couldn't get to Miami fast enough. My brother and his wife owned a successful restaurant in Newark and at least one of them had to stay there. My brother had opted to stay home the first year, but last year and this year his wife had insisted he go to Miami for a couple of days so she could have Christmas dinner with her family that didn't result in an argument between her father and Emilio, who had never gotten along.

I had come down to Miami last Christmas at the insistence/guilt-trip of my mother. My father, brother, and I had spent the early part of the day fishing off the coast before coming back to dinner with my mother, grandmothers, two of my sisters, and brother-in-law. John, married to my sister Aurelia, was a WASP who spent his entire time in Miami wearing sunscreen indoors with long sleeves and pants while permanently attached to his Bluetooth trading stocks in global markets. My father and brother made it clear that we were going fishing again this year because it had been a great time last year. My oldest sister Celia and her husband Andres were also going to be there this year. Their two teenage kids were supposed to have been coming as well, but after their son attempted to shoplift condoms from a grocery store one day in early December and their daughter skipped school one day a week later, the kids had been grounded to Newark with Sofia. Celia wasn't allowed to cook because she managed to ruin anything she touched, so she would be at the beach all day while Andres joined us on the boat.

Unfortunately for me, I had mentioned to my mother that I might be bringing Stephanie with me to Christmas dinner. When she had called me the night before to confirm, I told her Stephanie had plans with some friends instead. She tried to press me on details, but I had managed to distract her for the remainder of the phone call. I figured I would hear more about it today.

"Why couldn't Stephanie come with you?" my mother asked almost as soon as I walked in her front door.

"She already had plans," I said.

"I had assumed that if you were bringing her to dinner with you that it meant something serious," she continued, following me through the house. I tossed a duffle bag with extra clothes into a hall closet.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom. Where are the guys?"

My mother, all five-feet two-inches of her, blocked my path to the rest of the house. She had her arms crossed over her chest and looked up at me with such authority that I felt my posture straighten.

"Please, Mom," I said quietly. "I don't want to talk about it. Just know I screwed up, and that you would be very disappointed in me if you knew the details."

Her expression softened a little and she wrapped her arms around me. I hugged her back and as we pulled away, I saw the briefest flash of movement as her hand came up to smack me hard in the back of the head.

"That is for whatever you did that I wouldn't like," she said, pointing a finger in my face before she stalked back to the kitchen. I rubbed the spot on my head and went to the back of the house where my male relatives were waiting. Aurelia was trying to persuade her husband to join us, but he gave excuses ranging from sensitive skin to tech stocks trading low in Asia. My father gave a shrug that said _maybe next year_ to my sister, who looked disappointed. The four of us loaded up into my father's truck and headed towards the marina. We were about five feet out of the driveway when we all started laughing.

"Do you think he's more worried about getting a sunburn or that we'll throw him overboard and leave him for dead?" Emilio asked from the front seat.

"Probably both," Andres replied.

"And I have little doubt that both things would occur if he had come along," I added. We all hated John, but did our best to spare Aurelia's feelings.

We continued shit-talking John as we drove to the marina and transferred our gear from the truck to the boat. Emilio enacted a few different scenarios of John attempting to carry something light, including a near fall into the water before we even pulled out of the dock.

"Why did your sister have to marry such a loser?" my father mused as he guided the boat out of its slip. I figured he had already had this thought several times since waking up that morning. My father had spent his life in construction and was used to hard work. Talking on a phone all day and hitting a few buttons on a computer didn't constitute work in my father's opinion.

"Have you met Aurelia? She isn't winning any congeniality awards. Plus, they're both good at math and numbers. Birds of a feather and all that," Emilio said as he opened beers for everyone.

We stopped in one of our favorites offshore spots. The skyline was still visible, but we were far enough from shore to not have the fish scared off by excessive boats. Andres and Emilio set up on one side of the boat while my father and I set up on the opposite. Our chairs swiveled and allowed us to talk to each other without yelling.

"You know Mom expects us to get the details of what went down with you and that Samantha chick, right?" Emilio asked once we all had our lines in the water and poles in their holders.

I drained half my beer before answering. "Her name is Stephanie, and I can't say I'm surprised. But like I told her, I don't want to talk about it."

"You know she won't let up until she gets some more information. Besides, you live here now. That means she can keep going until one of you dies."

"I'm not talking about it," I said, hoping the finality in my voice convinced everyone to drop the subject. It seemed to work on Andres and Emilio, who started talking about football teams and starting catching fish almost immediately.

"Why don't you just tell me what happened and I can give her a watered-down version that will satisfy her without sending her to church to pray for your eternal soul," my father said quietly. "Because if she doesn't get what she wants, I don't get what I want, and I'm not going to let any of you kids get in the way of that. You got in the way enough when you were little."

Damn. A guilt-trip from my father was worse than one from my mother because he rarely used them. He must figure she'll really hound him for not pushing me for more information. I finished my beer and decided I could trust my father. He wouldn't judge me the way my mother would, and I could trust him to share with her the right information.

I gave him a brief summary of my complicated relationship with Stephanie. When I got to the part about the Hawaii trip and the fight with Morelli, I thought my father was going to fall out of his chair laughing. He was quiet and serious as I told him about her miscarriage, her one-night stand with Barajas, and my actions from the night of the party.

"You fucked up," he said once I had finished. "She did too, but it doesn't seem like hers was intentional."

I shook my head. "It wasn't. I know that. My behavior was intentional though. Sleeping with Jenna was meant to hurt her."

We didn't say anything for a while as the boat gently rocked. Emilio and Andres were both snoring in their chairs, their lines forgotten in the water. My father pulled in a grouper, examined it, and then threw it back in the water. He was very particular about what fish he took home.

"Love makes us stupid," my father began as he wiped his forehead with a towel. "We want to protect the people we love. We're willing to give our lives for theirs. They can also piss us off and hurt us more than anyone else. But if the love is strong and it's meant to work out, it will. Stephanie may need time to get over this, but if you two are meant to be together, God will make it happen."

I snorted. "God is probably thinking that I'm getting what I deserve right now. And what I don't deserve is someone like her. I've probably screwed this up permanently. I need to accept that."

My father handed me another beer and opened one for himself. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees while the beer bottle hung between his legs.

"I had an affair once," he said as he looked out over the water. I stopped with my beer halfway to my mouth. My parents had the strongest marriage I had ever seen. Surely this wasn't true.

"You were about six months old when it started," he continued. "Your mother was depressed and staying in bed all day. She was dealing with her own stuff from the car accident and grieving your sister and wasn't bonding with you. My mother had moved in with us to help take care of you kids. I hated being at home because it was noisy and chaotic. Silvia and Emilio were acting out because of it, Celia and Aurelia were busy bossing everyone around, and you were constantly fussy. I started hanging out a bar near the site I was working on at the time and met this woman who was a bartender there. Her name was Lina. She was twenty-one, studying at Rutgers-Newark, and was from Lithuania. She wanted to become a doctor, but she was having to work her way through school. We would talk when I was there, and one day she invited me to her place because she wouldn't be working at the bar the next day."

My mouth was dry as I listened to the story. I wasn't sure anything had shocked me more than this.

"She got pregnant about four months into it. I told her I couldn't have a baby with her because I had a wife and six kids at home. She told me should would have abortion. I gave her some money for it and broke it off. I told your mother and begged her to forgive me. It took a year of counseling and almost separating to get through it. And just as we were getting to a good place, I discovered that Lina went on to have the baby. A girl. That set us back, but we still worked through it."

He finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the ground. "The girl's name is Alexandra. She lives in Boston near Lina. She's thirty-two and a lawyer. I met her for the first time a couple of years ago. I didn't tell your mother. We had agreed that the affair wouldn't come up again, and that we weren't going to tell you kids about it or the child."

"I don't know what to say. I never would have imagined you two going through something like that," I commented, doing a quick mental catalogue of the women I had slept with in the Boston area to make sure there hadn't been any lawyers named Alexandra. I felt better once I realized there had not only been no women named Alexandra, but that I had never slept with any lawyers except for Jenna.

My father gave me a quizzical look. "Did you just have to do a quick check to make sure you hadn't slept with a lawyer named Alexandra in Boston?"

"Yes, and thankfully, no one even remotely close to that popped up."

"Small miracles," he said. "But if your mother and I can get through that, you two can surely get through this."

"You guys had a decade and six kids to motivate you. We've had almost four rocky years of a semi-serious non-relationship. It isn't the same."

"No it isn't. But I suspect that you two love each other the way your mother and I love each other. It's intense and loyal, and sometimes one or both of you will screw up along the way. But you find your way back to each other. Just give her time and space. If you're serious about her being the only one for you, it won't matter if she needs three weeks or three years. It has to be in her time, not yours. You aren't the company commander in a relationship, Carlos. It's about being accountable to each other. You owe her the time to get over this and the respect for whatever decision she makes."

I thought about the note I had left with her gift. It basically told her the same thing, though with less words. Control wasn't an easy thing for me to give over to someone, but I was going to do so with her. I had tried to control the relationship and managed to screw it up. It may the only way to salvage it would be to let her control it until it can heal. And my father was right, it wasn't up to me how long it took for her to forgive me. Or if she ever did.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: Back to Stephanie's POV**_

I woke up on Christmas morning to the sounds of screaming children in the room next door. It was a family with three kids around the same ages as my older nieces who had decided to come to Miami on vacation in lieu of a bunch of gifts. I had heard the parents telling the kids several times that there wouldn't be any gifts besides whatever ended up in their stockings because the trip to Florida was their gift. Apparently, the kids hadn't believed them because they were now sobbing about life being unfair and hating their mother and father.

I managed to go back to sleep and rolled out of bed at eleven to consider my options. This was the first Christmas I wouldn't be spending with my family. My parents still had three days on their cruise, Valerie and her family were still in California, and Grandma Mazur had gone to Atlantic City for a Christmas special with some of her girlfriends. Everyone had something to do but me. I hadn't considered the fact that I would be alone for Christmas until now. I knew that it felt a lot more miserable because of the fight with Ranger than it would have otherwise. I may not have minded it. But ever since that night, the world had felt like it was slightly off-balance. Ranger and I didn't fight like that. We had argued before, but it would always either fizzle out or rectify easily enough. Before four o'clock on Sunday morning, the biggest fight we ever had was over me sleeping with Barajas, and even then, we had cleared the air within a couple of days. Or had we?

My stomach grumbled loudly and I knew I shouldn't be trying to think about these things on an empty stomach. Hunger made me angry and irrational and I figured there had been more than enough anger and irrationality revolving around Ranger this week. After a shower, I decided that what I wanted to do for Christmas was eat Chinese food on the beach and read a good book. I threw on a maxi dress over my bikini, loaded my tote bag with necessities, grabbed my beach chair, and headed out the door. It was a beautiful day outside. People were slowly leaving the motel to go visit family or head to the beach. I put my chair in the back of the car and tossed my bag in the passenger seat next to me. I was about to pull out of the parking spot when I noticed something stuck up under the visor. It was a small black box the size of a business card. I could hear something rattling inside it. I cautiously lifted the lid and found a set of silver house keys. A tag was attached to the keys. One side of the tag contained an address in Coral Gables along with a six-digit number. The other side had a handwritten message in what I recognized to be Ranger's handwriting.

 _ **Only you. It's your call.**_

I put the keys back in the box and stuffed the box into my glove compartment as though I were trying to hide something indecent. I wasn't ready to deal with anything Ranger-related at the moment. I didn't want to think about him being in my car or what locks those keys would open. I thought I could even detect the scent of Bulgari Green shower gel. I pulled out of the lot and drove on autopilot for a while, unable to figure out where I needed to go. I wanted a book, Chinese food and a beach. I kept running through the list in my head. The problem was that I wasn't familiar with the area and didn't know where I should go. I stopped at a pharmacy that was miraculously open and grabbed random items like Twizzlers, a magazine, and a Snapple. They had a decent book section and I ended up grabbing _The Martian_. I knew there had been a movie out not too long ago and I liked reading books that also had movies. Usually it was in case I gave up on the book but didn't want to have to admit to it.

It was shortly after noon by the time I arrived in South Beach, laden down with food bag, tote bag and beach chair. I set up shop away from the crowd and tore into both my food and the book as the day passed by. My mother made a one-minute phone call from the ship to wish me a Merry Christmas because the cost was ridiculous. I was sure I heard my father grumbling in the background about how unnecessary it was. Grandma Mazur also called me from Atlantic City. She told me she had lost two hundred dollars so far, but was hopeful she would get it back. She attempted to give me details of a one-night stand she had, but I feigned an incoming call and hung up. I was half-way through the book when I realized the sun was starting to set and that people were packing up to go home. As I walked back to my car, I realized that the person walking next to me was one of the MPA teachers, Mr. Hatch. I couldn't remember his first name, but I knew he taught English literature. He was in his early sixties with graying brown hair and blue eyes. He wore reading glasses perched on the end of his nose and always wore cardigans, even in the Miami heat. Today he was in a t-shirt and swim trunks. I could have done without that image.

"Hello, Mr. Hatch," I said as I readjusted the chair under my arm.

"Well, hello there Stephanie," he replied cheerfully. There was an avuncular air about him. He was always kind and smiling. "Spending Christmas at the beach?"

"Yep. I don't have family down here so I thought this would be the best way to spend the day."

"I wholeheartedly agree. My husband went to visit his awful mother in Orlando and I just couldn't stomach visiting the old nag. She's almost one-hundred years old, blind as a bat, and refers to me as Martin's _man-wife_ ," he said with a sad shake of his head.

"Good in-laws are hard to come by," I said as we reached the parking lot. "Enjoy the rest of your break."

"Oh, I will. Do you have these two weeks off work as well?"

"No, I have to cover other spots. I'm working an overnight shift next week."

Mr. Hatch grimaced sympathetically. "Good luck, dear. I'll see you in the new year."

Lula called as I was crossing the MacArthur Causeway.

"I'm gettin' kinda tired of this new job," she said. "I have to work tonight. What kind of respectable job makes you work on Christmas?"

"Lots of respectable jobs work on Christmas. Doctors, police, firefighters. But you don't have a respectable job, so you probably shouldn't expect much." I replied.

Vinnie had given Lula the chance to do the bond enforcement job on her own, but after losing every single one of the FTAs in a week, he fired her and brought in Joyce Barnhardt. Lula had considered everything from veterinary school to a return to the world's oldest profession before landing a gig at the Kitty Kat Lounge. Now she worked four nights a week taking off her clothes and dancing around a pole for bachelor parties and perverts. Connie had also gotten the boot three weeks after Lula once Lucille found out that Joyce Barnhardt was working at the office. Connie said Lucille gave her a check for ten-thousand dollars and said she was going to be running the office from now on. Connie had packed up her stuff in ten minutes and left as Joyce and Lucille started yelling at each other. She now managed the office for her cousin Bobby, who was an accountant in the Burg. Since Connie's family is part of The Family, accountant is code for _money launderer_.

I disconnected with Lula and sat in traffic for a few minutes while I debated my next move. I didn't want to go back to my motel room with its mini fridge and HBO, but I didn't have anything else to do or anyone to visit. I kept casting a glance at my glove compartment where the box had stayed all day. I pull it out and read the address again. Traffic was at a stand-still so I entered the address into my GPS to get a general idea of where it was. It showed a residential neighborhood a few blocks away from MPA. As traffic began moving, I followed the directions through the city, not letting myself think about anything but the cars around me. I didn't know why I was doing this. Or what to expect of it all.

I arrived at the address forty-five minutes later. The sun had already set, but there was still enough twilight to be able to see the house. It was a Spanish-style home with a stucco exterior and black plantation shutters. The driveway was cut in half by a black gate that secured the backyard and detached garage. The house was dark and looked unoccupied from what I could tell from the street. I sat in front of the house for twenty minutes and debated about going inside. I looked up the house on Zillow and learned that it had been built in 1925 and sold five times since 2000, the most recent sell date being in early December where the house sold for its highest price of seven-hundred thousand dollars. According to the blurb, it had been recently remodeled and the garage had been converted into a possible office or guest house. It had three bedrooms and two bathrooms in the main house. The total square footage was just shy of two-thousand. There were pictures of the inside available, but I stopped myself from looking at them. Why would Ranger have bought this place? And why was he leaving me with the keys? If I hadn't looked it up online, I might have thought he had bought it as an apology. But clearly, he had purchased it before we I almost thought _broke up_ , but that wasn't right. We hadn't been a couple, so it wasn't possible for us to have broken up.

I pulled away from the curb once the sky had completely gone dark and headed towards Wynwood. I had moved to Miami in October with little expectations for what might happen. All I knew was I would be working at a school and living in Ranger's apartment until I paid off my lease in Trenton. I hadn't set expectations about friends, men, or even grocery shopping. I just wanted to get the hell away from Morelli and bond enforcement so badly that I would have probably taken anything thrown at me. My life in Trenton had been a rollercoaster both professionally and personally. Until a few days ago, I had been coasting along pretty well more like a kiddie train ride than a rollercoaster. Maybe a little jerk of the car with the Barajas thing, but it had seemed like my life would continue going smoothly. My professional life and personal life were intertwined more closely here than they had been in Trenton. Could I realistically keep working for Ranger if I was going to cut him out of my life? He wasn't someone I would see daily, weekly, or even monthly. Most of the field employees rarely saw Ranger in Miami, though that might change with him living here now. Would he stay now that we had fought and I had told him to leave me alone? He had said he was moving down here because he wanted a relationship with me. When he tried to apologize to me, he told me he hadn't meant any of the things he said. Had he meant that he did want to have a relationship with me after telling me that he had changed his mind, or was it that he never wanted a relationship at all, but only said it to hurt me? Buying the house made me think he had meant it when he said he had wanted to pursue a real relationship, but it wasn't a guarantee. The house could have been meant as a safe house or a holding for some sort of financial reason. It wasn't a declaration of love or a promise of commitment. It was just a building.

I spent the rest of the night in my room drinking boxed wine and watching Christmas movies. I fell asleep in the middle of _Love Actually_ and woke up to the sound of my alarm the next morning. It was my last day of patrol duty with Eduardo. I thought it was too bad because he had started to grow on me. I would have Friday off and start overnight monitor duty at eleven on Saturday night. The thought of being in the Rangeman building sent a wave of anxiety through me. I had been able to avoid going inside because Eduardo always got there before me and had the keys for the car. We clocked in using our Rangeman ID badges and there was a place to do so conveniently located in the garage. But on monitor duty I would be either on the same floor as Ranger's office or one below it. He was always in his office by six in the morning, which meant I stood a chance of running into him towards the end of the shift. It brought back the question of whether I should keep working for Rangeman. I could find something else in Miami, or move back to Trenton. Or move somewhere else entirely. But I didn't want to do any of those things. I really liked my job, even when the kids were annoying. I was good at it. And I liked Miami. It was warm and diverse and exciting. I had told Ranger I wanted nothing to do with him, but would that feeling last forever? I was still numb from the events of the weekend, but I knew eventually the numbness would fade and be replaced by actual emotions. I had no clue if they would turn out to be forgiveness, longing, love or hatred and bitterness or passive indifference.

I approached Saturday night with trepidation. What did the people in the office think of Ranger and me? After all, they were the people who would have known I was living in his apartment, would have seen him bringing Jenna up there late on Saturday night and me hauling my belongings out of the building at five-thirty the following morning. If they were anything like the guys in Trenton, there would never be a word said about it. I could only hope that to be true.

I was met by the night shift manager, Phil. He was about my age and twice my size with blond hair and brown eyes. He might have been attractive once, but he had an enormous scar across his face like Tyrion Lannister from _Game of Thrones._ We took the elevator to the third floor and I followed him past the commercial control room.

"I thought I was on monitor duty." I said as we continued down the hall.

"You have internal monitor duty," he replied, opening a door on the left-hand side. Inside was a bank of at least thirty monitors that lined one wall and two men were seated in chairs facing them. They typed a few things on the computers, grabbed their stuff, and left with a nod of acknowledgement.

"We only have one person on shift for overnight," he said. "There isn't much going on to need more than one person."

Fan-freaking-tastic. There was no way I'd be able to stay awake all night in a dim room all by myself. At least with commercial monitor duty there was the possibility of witnessing a burglary. I would have been able to call the police to report the crime, then say "you're on camera, motherfucker" and watch as the person tried to escape. There wouldn't be anything even close to exciting going on inside the building. Ranger only employed people he knew he could trust and they knew that if they messed up that he would deal with them personally. No one was going to be engaging in corporate espionage or trying to steal office supplies here. I would be monitoring the integrity of the building in case of armed assailants with a death wish who thought it might be fun to hold a building full of armed security guards hostage. At least I had brought my book with me.

Phil shows me how to do my hourly logs on the computer and left. I watched the monitors for a while, but felt myself starting to nod off after twenty minutes. I set a timer on my phone and picked up my book. The best part about the book was the humor in it and it kept me so engrossed that I jumped when my timer dinged forty minutes later. I guilty glanced at the monitors and didn't see anything out of place. No masked men running around. No gang tags on the outside of the building. No missing cars. Phew. I decided at that point to invest in the audiobook version of the book. I started listening from the beginning, figuring I had nothing better to do. I could watch monitors and listening to my story simultaneously. Much better.

My gaze kept drifting to the monitor that showed Ranger's foyer. There hadn't been any movement on that floor for the entire evening. I tried to keep my focus on my story, but occasionally, I caught myself wondering what he was doing. Did he miss me? Was he hurting too? I would subsequently scold myself and remember the horrible things he had said to me that night. This cycle repeated at least once an hour through the remainder of my shift. By four in the morning, I was going crazy. I stuck my phone in my pocket and jogged around the room to wake myself up. I had been given a fifteen-minute break around two during which time I had commandeered an entire pot of coffee. I brought it back to the monitoring center and drank it while I ate chocolate covered potato chips. The chips were a cardinal sin in the Rangeman building, but I didn't care. The boss could kiss my ass.

I watched Ranger leave his apartment at a quarter to six and followed his movement as he took the stairs down to his office on the fourth floor. He spoke to a few different people in the control room before walking down the hall to his personal office. I watched him sit down at his desk and turn on his computer. He sorted through paperwork while the computer booted up. I watched as he logged on and read the screen, occasionally clicking the mouse. He looked normal. No signs of lost sleep or stress. No lost weight from not eating. I thought back to him standing naked in his bedroom, malice in his eyes and the tone of his voice. It made my stomach hurt to remember the chill in the air and the way my heart had raced. Ranger and I didn't yell at each other. Yelling had practically been the default method of communication with Morelli. I nearly wet my pants when Ranger looked directly into the camera in his office. I felt like his eyes were burning into my mine, even through the monitor. He eventually tore his gaze away and went back to working on the computer. I continued to watch him as he answered a phone call and spoke for several minutes. Wild movement from one of the nearby monitors caught my eye. Two guys were beating the crap out of each other on the seventh floor, which held some of the employee apartments. I reached for the phone and dialed Phil's extension, watching the monitor that showed his office.

"What?" He said on the second ring.

"There are two guys fighting on the seventh floor."

"And?"

"Um, I thought someone should break it up," I said, perplexed at his nonchalance.

"They'll figure it out," he said and hung up the phone. I saw him shake his head in disgust as he continued working on his computer.

I replaced the receiver and watched as the guys continued to fight. I could see blood starting to show up their faces and the floor. When one guy finally got knocked to the ground, the other one started kicking him in the stomach. I had a flashback to the day of the miscarriage, to the FTA who had kicked me in the stomach after knocking me down the stairs. I nearly threw up as I reached for the phone again. This time I dialed Ranger's extension and watched him answer.

"There are two guys beating the crap out of each other on the seventh floor and Phil thinks they should just work it out," I said quickly. "One guy is on the floor and the other is kicking him."

"Call Bozwell," Ranger said and hung up. I watched as he ran down the hall and took the stairs three at a time while I called someone named Bozwell and told him to go to the seventh floor. Ranger immediately pinned the kicker against the wall once he got there. I could see him talking to the guy, who was furious and yelling. Another guy showed up on the floor from the elevator a couple of minutes later. I watched as he started talking to the guy laying on the floor. Ranger spoke to the man on the floor for a minute before pulling out his cell phone to make a call. He pushed the kicking man down the hall towards the stairwell. They walked down to the third floor and into a conference room. Phil met Ranger in the hallway outside the room and I watched as Ranger gave him a dressing down. I could tell he was angry. He said something to Phil, who took his place outside the conference room door. Ranger went down to the first floor, where he met with police officers and EMTs who had showed up on the scene. The EMTs were escorted to the seventh floor by one of the guys from the front desk while the police followed Ranger up to the third. One officer went into the conference room while Ranger spoke to the other in the hall. The action over for the moment, I moved to the computer and stared typing up my hourly note. It was the only one that had anything of substance. I was so caught up in getting in the details that I nearly jumped out of my seat when the door opened. Ranger was standing in the doorway with the officer.

"This is Stephanie," he said. "She was on monitor duty when the fight occurred."

The officer, a middle-aged man who looked like he was watching the clock until retirement, was holding a notepad and pen.

"Did you see who started the fight?" He asked.

I shook my head. "No, I was focused on other monitors when the movement caught my peripheral vision."

Ranger walked around behind me and took a seat at one of the other computers. "I can bring up the footage," he said as he did something on the computer. We all watched as the guy who was doing the kicking in the end took the first swing. That was all the police officer had needed to make an arrest for assault. I saw on the lobby monitors that the other guy was being wheeled outside to a waiting ambulance at the curb.

"Do you need anything else from me?" I asked the officer as the relief shift began walking into the room. They were doing their best not to rubber-neck at the monitors with Ranger in the room, but I caught them all watching it as they walked to the other seats. He shook his head. 

"We've got it recorded. That's all we need."

I swept my stuff into my messenger bag and made a break for the door. I was waiting for an elevator when Ranger came up to stand next to me. Damn me and my laziness.

"I need you to fill out an internal report on Phil's refusal to intervene," Ranger said. His voice was neutral as he spoke and I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not because I was keeping my eyes on the elevator doors.

"I'll do it tonight when I come on shift," I replied. The elevator door opened and I hurried inside. Ranger followed. I stood on the opposite side of the elevator and focused on the emergency panel as though my life depended on it. The smell of Bulgari Green filled the elevator and made my eyes water. They were watering the because the smell was overpowering and not because the scent made me want to sob. That was my story and I was sticking to it.

He didn't try to talk to me as we descended to the parking garage. He stood aside and let me get off the elevator first. My car was parked several spaces away and on the opposite side of the garage from his. I internally cursed myself as I checked the reflection in the rear window of my car. He was standing next to his car while watching me walk to mine. I opened my door, threw my stuff into the passenger seat and backed out of my spot. I put my sunglasses on as I drove past him, needing something to do. He kept watching me until I couldn't see him anymore. I felt my lips tremble and the tears hit my cheeks as I drove north. My chest was so tight from restrained emotion that I thought it might burst. That was the most interaction we'd had since the fight. I hated myself for missing him. Some traitorous part of me wanted to turn around and go back to him, to tell him that we could work this out. That I loved him and that I was sorry for hurting him back.

 _I don't think I realized how self-absorbed you are until now._ The memory of him saying that to me, his body almost touching mine and the animosity that had dripped from him in that moment sobered me. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I had to remember these things in my moments of weakness. I had to remind myself of what he said to me.

I was about five minutes away from the motel when my cell phone rang. It was Paul, from MPA, who was supposed to be training the new guy from Atlanta this week.

"What's up?" I asked as I connected to the call through my car.

"One of your tier two kids committed suicide last night," he said, his voice gruff. I felt my stomach spasm at his words.

"Who?"

"Talia Berkovich."

Talia was a freshman and the daughter of the Israeli Consul General. She had experienced a few run-ins with school administration due to cutting class and smoking pot behind the school with a couple of friends. But she had been a fun-loving, bright girl who had been popular with her peers. I had just seen her eight days ago.

"What happened?"

"She fainted while playing soccer with some friends in Tel Aviv on Thursday. Her mother took her to the doctor to get checked out and they discovered she was pregnant," he said. There was some level of emotion in his voice as he spoke. Paul had a daughter the same age as Talia. "The parents were understandably shocked and disappointed, but were going to help her figure out how to handle it. She went to bed last night and said she loved them. Around three-thirty in the morning Tel Aviv time, which was about eight-thirty here last night, she went up to the roof of their apartment building and jumped. Her parents woke up to the sounds of people screaming in the street. She left a note saying she was sorry, but she couldn't embarrass her family anymore."

I was barely aware of pulling into my spot at the motel, but didn't move to turn off the car. My throat was tight as I thought about pretty Talia jumping off the roof of her family home, thinking it was preferable to having a baby.

"I can't believe it," I said.

"Me neither. The headmistress wanted me to ask if you had noticed anything unusual before Talia left. They'll be doing an internal investigation to figure out how she managed to get pregnant on campus. Talia never told her parents who the father was. They had estimated she was about twelve weeks along when she went to the doctor."

My brain was fried from being awake all night and the stress of having to spend time with Ranger. I couldn't form any other thoughts about Talia at the moment.

"Let me think on it. I just got off an overnight shift on internal monitor duty. I need some sleep. If I think of anything, I'll let you know."

After I hung up with Paul I dragged my fatigued body up to my room and collapsed face down on my bed. I had to be up in six hours to pick my parents up from their cruise and drive them to the airport. I managed to kick my shoes off and crawled up to my pillow before passing out, too emotionally drained to do anything else.


	14. Chapter 14

The students of Menendez Preparatory Academy returned to school on the Monday after New Year's Day. I watched the faces of the freshman as they were reunited with friends and the excitement with which they showed off new clothes or gadgets. I wanted to tell them to enjoy this time because the rug was about to be pulled out from beneath them. Postings had gone around the school to inform everyone that Monday convocation had been moved up to eight that morning in lieu of homeroom. Grief counselors were on standby. As the students filed past, I heard a couple of Talia's friends say they should save her a seat. All of the staff along with the student security team stood in the back of the large auditorium as six-hundred and ninety-eight students filled the seats. Macy was still missing and now Talia was dead, leaving two empty placements at the school. The school had already contacted a student on the alternate list to add to the freshman class. She would start attending classes next week. Macy's spot would be held until the end of the school year. If she did not return by then, her spot would also be given away.

The group most affected by the news was the freshman class. Many of them openly sobbed and held onto one another as Dr. Turner informed the group that Talia had taken her own life while at home during winter break. She had been universally popular, which meant it affected the entire school. Dr. Turner informed the students that classes would be cancelled for the morning. Each grade level would remain together as a group with faculty members. Anyone who needed to speak to a grief counselor could do so during that time. Classes would be resumed after lunch. Our normal Monday meeting was held at nine once we had confirmed our tiers two and three students were in their correct groups.

"This is Cooper Reynolds," Paul said, introducing a tall, skinny guy with a buzz cut as we all sat at the conference table. "He's the newest member of ST since Barajas is now in Trenton. It's a shame you're getting off to a start like this one, but there's nothing we can do about that." He clicked his remote at the wall screen. "The school will be doing an internal investigation into the suicide of Talia Berkovich. She was pregnant and they want to know how she got that way when she is supposed to be on tier two supervision. If anyone has any information regarding Berkovich, make sure you tell Dr. Turner or myself."

I felt myself straighten up in my seat. "Are we being accused of negligence?" I asked, my heart sinking into my stomach.

Paul shook his head. "I know you did your job, Plum. So did Huffington. If kids want to have sex, they'll find a way around it, no matter how many adults and cameras there are. It doesn't take much to get pregnant," Paul said. "A quickie in a janitor's closet during passing period could easily go unnoticed. Besides, we are here to protect the students from danger, not monitor their virginity."

The rest of the meeting covered normal things, but I couldn't focus. Macy had been one of my tier one students. Talia had been one of my tier two. Was I missing something? Should I have been watching them more closely? I had been on the job three months and lost two students. Granted both had been at home with family and not on campus, but it still bothered me. What were the chances of one student running away and another committing suicide within a month of each other? These were privileged, intelligent kids. They weren't immune from problems, but they had access to resources that students in the local public school system might not.

After the meeting, I took a quick trip to my cubicle and brought up both Macy's and Talia's files. I surreptitiously pulled my thumb drive out of my purse, stuck it into the computer, and copied the files over to it. I wanted to be able to look them over after work. I needed to figure out if I had missed something in order to put my mind at ease.

I spent my day checking on my normal students, hypervigilant to their behavior. I also checked in with Talia's closest friends. They were understandably devastated at the news, and I asked them if Talia had a boyfriend in case he needed to be seen by a counselor. The girls all said they thought she had a crush on someone, but she had never said who. They said she had actually been sneaking out less and was trying to be on her best behavior. Talia hadn't been bothered by detentions and demerits, so straightening up signaled to me that she had been hiding something and wanted to do her best not to get caught.

I decided to walk around campus during my lunch break. I wasn't hungry and wanted to think about Talia. The truth was that I had been almost more surprised to find out that she was pregnant than I had been to learn that she had committed suicide. I had suspected that she might be gay. I had noticed the way she behaved with one of her friends and it seemed like someone with a crush. Not that it couldn't have been a casual girl-crush and nothing that would ever be acted upon, but I had noticed that she paid little attention to boys. She played sports and hung out with a few boys, but as their friend. As I approached the girls' dormitory, I was filled with the need to look through Talia's belongings before they were packed up. Maybe there would be some mention of a boyfriend or signs of depression that had gone unnoticed.

"Hey, Garcia. Switch over to channel three for a second," I said into my microphone. I flipped my radio and waited for him.

"Are we gonna have radio-sex or something?" Manny Garcia asked. He was on general security and was one of the staff on monitor duty. He was a nice guy that I spoke to from time to time, and of the two guys on monitor duty was the one I felt I could trust the most.

"Rain check. Listen, I want to go check out Talia Berkovich's dorm room before it gets packed up. I just need to know that I didn't miss something that could have prevented all of this. Can you keep an eye out while I look and give me a sign if someone comes into the dorm?"

"Yeah, I can do that. But you didn't miss anything, Plum. Don't beat yourself up over it," Garcia said seriously. "I'll just give a little whistle on channel two if I see something. We can pass it off as someone accidentally hitting their mic."

"Thanks, Garcia," I said and switched back to channel two.

I hurried into the building and up the stairs to the second floor. Talia's room was in the middle of the hall facing the lake. I used my master key to unlock the door and closed it quietly behind me. Talia's roommate was Julianna Sanders, a freshman from Michigan. I knew which side of the room belong to Talia by the Israeli flag and various signs in Hebrew posted on the wall. Her desk butted up against the foot of the bed, acting as an informal footboard. There was a small two-drawer table next to the bed and a large, wooden wardrobe against the far wall. I went to the bedside table first and sorted through the drawers. Hairbrushes, hair ties, make-up, tissues, and a journal. Written in Hebrew, so it didn't do me much good. Probably wanting to keep some privacy from her roommate. I flipped through the journal to see if anything fell out, but didn't find anything. I checked the bottom of her tissue box, felt underneath the table and the bed for anything hidden.

I moved onto her desk and found that she had been very organized. Pens and mechanical pencils lined up perfectly in an organizer, pictures of family lining the edge. Her computer was missing, likely still in Israel with her parents. I opened drawers and found candy, gum, old homework assignments and papers with _A_ or _100_ scrawled across the top. I did find a small bag of weed, rolling papers, and a lighter taped to the back of a drawer, but it wasn't a secret that Talia smoked marijuana. At the bottom of the last drawer was a small notebook. I flipped it open and found random numbers written on the first two pages. The handwriting didn't look like Talia's based on what I had seen around the room. It was block-style and reminded me of a boy's handwriting. The only thing that made it distinct was how the sevens were written. They not only had a line across the middle, but a very small line pointing down from the top line. It was as though the writer wanted to make it perfectly clear that this was the number seven. The rest of the book was empty. I pulled out my cell phone and took pictures of the pages before putting the book back in its spot. I finished going through the desk and the wardrobe, but found nothing that said she had a boyfriend or had been depressed. Before leaving, I went back to the bedside table and took pictures of her journal pages. She had started a new journal with the new school year and appeared to write in it every Sunday. I figured if I got really desperate I could probably find some sort of translation service to help me figure out what she had written.

I spent the next couple of weeks pouring over both girls' school records looking for reasons why things had gone so wrong for them. I wasn't sure if I believed Macy had run away like the police suspected or was kidnapped like her parents continued to insist. I couldn't find anything that pointed to a reason for her to run away nor any sort of threat. She was a fairly boring kid as far as MPA students went. Talia had more bumps in her file, but no boys stood out. Dr. Turner met with me one day to ask if I had observed anything unusual in the weeks leading up to winter break. I reported that I had not, though I kept the speculation about Talia's possible crush on a girl friend to myself. It wasn't my place to go into that possible part of her life without some sort of evidence.

The residential students at MPA always became a little squirrely around the end of the month. Part of the room and board paid to the school was used as a stipend for the students to have spending money, which was paid out the last Thursday of the month. Most of them burned through it in the first two or three weeks, which meant that by the time they got the next stipend they were excited to get back to spending it on fancy coffee, candy, or illegal substances. We usually caught at least a couple of people trying to sneak out of school to go shopping or to meet their weed dealer. The last Thursday of January was no different.

"South Dakota's trying to rabbit," Garcia said over the radio. He's headed towards exit B, building five. Plum, you're closest."

"On it," I said. I took exit C and ran around the side of the building to stand against the wall by exit B. I waited until I heard the door open before I started walking towards Fahed, who was looking the opposite way. I turned my mic on before I ran into him and he fell to the ground in a shocked cry of frustration.

"Oh, hey Ahmed," I said in a cheerful voice. "I didn't see you there. What's up?"

"Watch where you are going!" he said as he picked himself and his school bag up from the grass.

"Sorry, buddy. I just didn't see you there," I said. I may a show of looking at my watch. "It's third period. What class are you headed to? I'm sure you'll be late now that I accidentally ran into you."

Fahed brushed some dirt off his jacket. "I'm going to fitness training with Mr. Macha."

"He's supposed to be in calculus with Dr. Hugo," Reyes said into my ear piece.

"Odd, I could have sworn I've seen you in Dr. Hugo's calculus class around this time of day," I said, making a scene of consulting my phone for his schedule. "Yep, it says you have calculus this period. Fitness isn't until the end of the day. You must be confused."

Fahed glared at me. "I guess I must be," he replied through gritted teeth.

"I'll walk you to class," I said, fighting the urge to laugh as I kept the ridiculously peppy voice in place.

"I know where it is," he snapped.

"I insist," I said as I held the door open for him. "Dr. Hugo will need to know why you were late."

I could hear laughter and a few remarks in my ear piece from the rest of the student team as I walked a pissed-off Ahmed Fahed to calculus class, attempting to make cheery small talk along the way.

"You loved that a little too much," Paul said once I had successfully left Fahed with Dr. Hugo.

"I owe him for all the grief he gave me in Trenton a few years ago," I said. "The debt isn't paid in full yet."

Connie and Lula both tried to call me while I was working, but I didn't answer. They had been making noises about coming down to visit me, but I made excuses about work and then started avoiding their calls. I didn't want to tell them about what happened with Ranger. I still hadn't allowed myself the time to sit and sort through it all. It was probably because I didn't want to consider that there might be some truth in what he said, even though he said he didn't mean any of it. Conversely, Ranger had been radio-silent since the day of the fight on the seventh floor at Rangeman. I had been assigned to internal monitor duty the remainder of the week and had watched him leave his apartment every morning and go to his office and start his work day. There would usually be a point where he might glance up at the camera for a second, but that was it.

As I pulled into the motel parking lot at eight o'clock that evening, all I could think about was a huge glass of wine and the box of Tastycakes I had bought at the store the day before. I was walking across the parking lot to the staircase when a familiar voice began shouting behind me.

"You got some explainin' to do," Lula said as she stalked across the parking lot in a skin-tight fuschia spandex dress and five-inch silver heels. "Startin' with why you can't answer your damn phone and going to why the hell you aren't livin' at Rangeman anymore."

Connie hurried to catch up to Lula. "What's going on? We went there to surprise you and Ranger came down to say you had moved out. Lula started yelling at him and asking why he had made you move out. He said it had been your decision. He wouldn't go into the why, just said we should ask you."

Crap. I ran fingers through my ponytail and let out a sigh. I hadn't planned on having to explain this to anyone until I figured it out for myself.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I said. "I just thought it was best if I moved out now that he's living here."

"Did he hit you?" Lula asked, hands on hips. "Because if he hit you, I'm gonna go beat his ass. I don't care how many thugs he got workin' for him, I'll burn his shit to the ground."

"He didn't hit me," I said, raising my hands to placate her. "We just had an argument and ," I felt my eyes start to water as I thought about it. I didn't want to fall apart right now. "Let's go up to my room and I'll tell you what happened," I said, wiping away the tears that had started to fall.

We shared the wine and Tastykakes as I spent nearly an hour going into exactly what had happened in Hawaii, about the miscarriage, my one-night stand with Barajas, my relationship with Ranger, and the night of the Governor's party. Lula and Connie had sat in stunned silence as I explained it all, sometimes struggling to keep my tears under control.

"He's being a fucking idiot," Lula said once I had opened the floor up to discussion. "You thought he didn't want no more kids, so you were afraid to tell him. No woman wants her baby daddy sayin' he don't want anything to do with her or the kid. And he had the balls to bring that bitch to your apartment to bang her like a steel drum after he got all over you for bouncin' on that hottie. I'd have knocked his sorry ass around the apartment and dragged that bitch out of the room by her weave and kicked her in the crotch."

"Can I play devil's advocate?" Connie asked. "I can understand why he would be upset that you slept with that guy you worked with when you made such a big deal about not sleeping with him, though I think he has lost some of that right since he slept with that woman. But he has the right to be angry that you didn't tell him about the baby. There is a difference between not intentionally having kids and having one as the result of an unplanned pregnancy. Ranger's a decent guy. Didn't he marry the mother of his daughter because he got her pregnant? And she was a one-night stand. It would be totally different when there's history with someone."

"When I told him, he seemed upset at first, but when I apologized later on he only said he wished I would have told him. He just brushed it off," I said, finishing my glass and pouring another. "But when he was drunk he flipped out and said I'd stolen our opportunity to be a family. How the hell was I supposed to know where his mind was?"

"You can't know where his mind will be if you keep things from him," Connie continued. "It's not up to you how he handles stuff. Just like it isn't up to him whether you forgive him or not."

"I'd have still beat his ass," Lula said. "A good high heel upside the head woulda knocked him out, since he's so strong and stuff. Then you could give him some good kicks in the kidneys and junk."

"You need to dial it down," Connie said. "You shouldn't have had that Red Bull in the car."

I leaned my head back against the bed and closed my eyes. I hadn't had dinner and the wine was getting me drunk. "He told me he moved down here because he was ready to have an actual relationship. And I think he might have bought a house for me. Or us, I'm not sure which."

"Is it a nice house?" Lula asked. "Does it have a Jacuzzi?"

"I've only seen the outside. I haven't been inside yet," I replied. I didn't mention I drove past the house everyday on my way to and from work, even though it off my normal route. That just sounded pathetic.

"How did you feel about the baby?" Lula asked.

I shrugged. "I was in denial at first. I kept trying to convince myself that it was Morelli's, but I knew deep down it wasn't. I did the math and it didn't work out to be his. All I could think about was all the things Ranger had ever said about not tying himself down to anything or anyone and how he paid child support and visited his daughter when he was invited but that he didn't get emotionally involved. I didn't want to hear the same thing. I knew I wouldn't be able to pass the baby off as Morelli's, so I made the decision to tell Ranger after a couple of weeks. But he was out of town and I lost it before he got back."

"But how did you _feel_?" Connie insisted. "If you had gotten to tell him and he told you he wanted to be with you and that baby, how would you have felt? And how did you feel once it was gone?"

I didn't say anything for several minutes. Every time I tried to open my mouth to speak, my throat would tighten up. I could barely see Connie and Lula through my tears and my lips were practically bleeding from chewing on them in my effort to not to keep the sobs in.

"I would have felt like I could handle it all," I said at last. "I would have been able to face Morelli and my parents and the Burg if I knew he had my back. I would have been able to figure out the parenting thing. I think I would have been excited about having a baby with him if we were together. I would have been happy to be finally be with him because I never thought it would happen. And when I lost it, I felt a bunch of different things. I felt guilty because I shouldn't have been chasing that guy, because I should have told Ranger right away. But I was also a little relieved because I never had to tell anyone, especially him. Because then if he hadn't said what I wanted to hear, I never would have been able to look at him the same way again."

"Are you gonna forgive him?" Lula asked as she poured herself the last of the wine.

I stared up at the ceiling, focusing on a spot where the plaster had started to crack a little. "I don't know. I think so, but what does that mean? I don't think we can go back to what we used to be. Or that we should because clearly it was messed up." I reached for another bottle of wine and poured myself a healthy dose. "And do you want to know what's really messed up?" I took a large chug of the wine before continuing. "A little part of me liked it. Not what he said or watching him screw that bimbo, but I liked seeing him lose his shit. He had lost control and it was the most human I have ever seen him. He's always so put together, sometimes I've wondered if he knows how to feel or act human anymore. That night showed me that he is capable."

"So are we not gonna beat his ass?" Lula asked after another extended silence. "Because I still think he deserves it. Maybe you both do. Do you want us to beat your ass or should we leave that to Ranger?"

Connie snorted and I burst out laughing. It was nice to have a break from the weight of it all. Not just because I was tipsy and laughing, but because I had said it someone else. Maybe that was part of the healing process.

Connie and Lula were staying until Sunday, so we arranged for them to get the room next door to mine and they slept late on Friday morning while I had to drag my hungover self to work once more. But it was my weekend off and I was excited to spend it doing something besides sitting in my motel room alone. On Saturday night, we decided to hit up the nightclub down the road called _Bamboo_. It had excellent reviews on Yelp and there was always a line outside. I hadn't planned on getting too dressed up, but Connie and Lula had insisted that I wear the sexy red dress.

"Just because you ain't lookin' to get any doesn't mean you can't make a guy want it," Lula said as I pulled on silver heels. She was wearing a short neon green dress with a wig streaked with silver. Connie was wearing a blue v-neck shirt and tight skirt that barely covered her ass. No one was going to notice me, even in the red dress, with these two around.

We waited in line for an hour before we managed to get inside. My feet were already killing me from the wait so we ordered drinks and found a table with high stools. Music blared through the dim room, which was decorated with white furniture and glossy black tables that surrounded a large dance floor. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling and the room was highlighted by purple stage lights. The DJ was stationed on a balcony that overlooked the entire club. Connie and I both got a sex on the beach while Lula ordered two mojitos.

Connie was asked to dance by a man probably ten years younger than her before she could finish her drink. She gave us a wink and allowed herself to be led off to the dance floor. Lula was approached for a dance after polishing off her first mojito. I waved her off, promised to watch the drinks, and watched as she walked out to the dance floor with a guy the size of Hal from the Trenton office. I finished my drink as a song with a thumping bass started to play. I snagged a passing server and ordered another. It would be my last drink of the night. The prices were outrageous.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I turned around to find a man in a light gray suit with a white shirt open at the collar standing behind me. He was Latino, probably late-thirties, with a shaved head, goatee, and dark brown eyes.

"Yes, I am," I said, accepting my drink as the server brought it back. I made to hand her the cash, but the man waved it away.

"It's on the house, Daniela," he told the server, who nodded and walked away. I raised an eyebrow.

"You have that kind of power?"

He flashed me a dazzling white smile. "I own the place. I'm Dante Salazar."

"It's a great place," I said.

"Is this your first time?"

I nodded. "I haven't lived here long. My friends came down to visit me and we decided to have a night out."

"Where are you from?" he asked, leaning against the table next to the stool Lula had vacated.

"New Jersey."

"And what brought you to Miami?"

"I took a job down here," I said. I saw Lula over Dante's shoulder. She was dancing with the same guy, but practically breaking her neck to see who was talking to me.

I felt Dante give me a once over. "Wanna dance?"

I gestured at the drinks on the table. "I'm babysitting while my friends are dancing. But thanks."

A tall black guy came over and said something to Dante that I couldn't hear over the music. He nodded and the guy walked away.

"I have to take care of something, but it was nice to meet you," he said, extending a hand. "I didn't get your name."

"Stephanie," I replied, shaking his hand. His skin was soft and warm, his grip firm. I felt him rub his thumb over the back of my hand.

"Come back sometime, Stephanie," he said. "I'll keep an eye out for you. You owe me a dance." He flashed his smile once more and left.

"Who was that hottie you were talkin' to?" Lula asked once she came back to the table.

"He owns the club. He just wanted to see if we were having a good time," I said.

"And he didn't offer to show you can even better time?"

"He asked me to dance, but I had to stay here with our drinks."

"Girl, if a man like that asks you to dance, you got do it," Lula said, smacking her hand on the table as she downed her second mojito.

"The drinks were twenty dollars each. I'm not wasting those."

Connie all but disappeared for nearly an hour. We were about to start looking for her when she appeared at the table with flushed cheeks and mussed hair.

"Looks like someone's been having a better time than us," Lula commented as Connie finished her drink.

"Just had the best sex of my life," Connie said she raised a hand to flag down a server.

Connie gave us more details than I was comfortable knowing about her romp and more guys approached her and Lula to dance. No one else came to talk to me. I saw a couple of unattractive guys eyeing me, but I didn't encourage anything. It felt weird to think of myself as available. I hadn't been attached to Ranger in that way, but I somehow still felt like I was fresh out of a relationship. The way I had felt after my divorce. I guess I technically was still fresh out of my relationship with Morelli, but it felt like years since I had broken up with him. So much had happened since then.

We left the club around one after Lula had finally found a guy to show her a good time in a bathroom stall and had given us too many details. I spotted Dante Salazar in a private room as we made our way to the exit. He was chatting with several attractive women who were all sitting as close as they possibly could and showing as much skin as possible while still remaining clothed. He caught my eye as I passed and gave me a grin and wink. I fought the urge to smile back and shook my head as I walked outside. I had managed to get noticed by at least one hot guy while out with Lula and Connie. That should boost my self-esteem for a while.


	15. Chapter 15

I didn't have to open my eyes on the morning on February fifteenth to know that I wasn't in my own bed. The light on the other side of my eyelids was too bright for my motel room, even if I had left the curtains wide-open at the single large window. The sheets on the bed weren't the cheap, scratchy ones I had been sleeping on for the past eight weeks, but a soft, high thread-count. The air didn't smell like old take-out. There wasn't the sound of blaring horns and early risers coming through thin walls. If I didn't open my eyes, the man in the bed next to me would believe I was still asleep. Then I wouldn't have to think about the decision I had made the night before.

 _Two days earlier…._

"Plum, I need you in the conference room now." Paul said the minute I walked into the security office on Tuesday morning.

I didn't bother putting my messenger bag down in my cubicle, but took it with me as I followed him. I was about to ask what was going on when I saw Dr. Turner sitting at the end of the table. She was talking to someone while she shuffled through papers. It wasn't until I had walked through the door that I realized Ranger was sitting on the far side of the table. He had a laptop open and glanced up when he saw me walk in the door. It was the first time we had been in the same room in almost eight weeks. He had tried to call me earlier that morning, but I had ignored it. Valentine's Day was the next day and while I normally didn't care much for it, I couldn't stop thinking about the single red rose that had quietly appeared in my apartment every February fourteenth for the past three years. I doubted there would one showing up at my cheap motel room this year.

"Hello, Stephanie," a low, sexy voice said from the other end of the room. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end the way an animal's might when it is preparing for a fight.

Jenna-with-the-big-boobs, as I had come to think of her, was standing in front of the wall screen. She was my version of _Becky-with-the-good-hair_ , only I was nowhere close to Beyoncé's level and Jay-Z had nothing on Ranger. But it was basically the same thing. She was wearing a hip-hugging dress in the color of red wine with cap sleeves, an asymmetrical neckline, a thin black belt with a silver clasp that accentuated the hourglass figure and it stopped a couple of inches above her knee. She looked sexy and professional. Like she could be preparing to argue a case before a court of law or to accompany a wealthy businessman to a work function to the tune of five grand a night with sex included.

"Hello," I managed to say with a tight smile and without the word _bitch_ at the end. I wondered why I didn't carry a flask in my purse as Paul pointed to the seat on Ranger's left side. I was sure as hell going to need it later.

"I'm sorry we have to meet again this way," Jenna continued as she took a seat across the table from me. She pulled a laptop towards her and clicked the mousepad a few times, which brought something up on the wall screen.

 _I'm sorry we have to meet again at all. Or that I had to meet you in the first place,_ I thought sourly as I took the seat next to Ranger. His scent seemed overpowering somehow in the large room.

"As you know Talia Berkovich's parents have filed a lawsuit against the school for negligence. They claim that she was not supervised properly while here, which led to her getting pregnant and ultimately taking her own life. The lawyer for the parents want to depose the members of the security team tomorrow afternoon. So I needed to get in here today to help prepare everyone," she finished, giving me a pleasant professional smile as she spoke.

Did she know that I had watched her riding Ranger in the living room that night? Had he told her anything about us? Was she genuinely being nice to me?

I felt Ranger gently nudge my leg with his own. I glanced in his direction and saw that he had typed out a message on a blank page on his computer screen.

 _ **Tried to warn you this morning.**_

"First I wanted you to look over your internal notes to see if there was anything that stood out to you," Jenna continued. She gestured towards Ranger, who pushed the laptop over to sit between us. His message was still on the screen.

I dug the heel of my boot into his toes as I pulled up the internal Rangeman system and logging into my portal.

"How far back am I looking?" I asked.

"Talia was estimated to be twelve weeks pregnant at the time of her death, which meant she conceived sometime in early-to-mid October. We reviewed all of the security notes regarding Talia during the internal investigation, but are going through them more closely now that there is litigation. Carlos said you have only been here since around the time she would have gotten pregnant so we know you were still learning the job at that point, but wanted to talk to you about a few things you indicated."

The way she said his name made me want to crawl across the table and rip her hair out. It was the same tone she had used when she saw him that night at the party. Instead of acting on impulse, I watched while she pulled up a timeline that started in October and ended the day the students had left the school for winter break. There were notches along the way that were going to be filled in with information.

"On October twelfth, you noted that you observed Talia coming back to building B from the direction of the gymnasium, is that correct?" Jenna asked politely.

"Yes, it is," I responded. "I had read her file during my training period and knew she had a history of delinquency and marijuana use. I suspected she might have been attempting one or both."

"So, you followed her?"

I nodded. "I got close enough to have been able to detect the scent of marijuana, but I didn't smell it."

"Had she missed class that day?"

I shook my head. "Unless one of her teachers counted her present when she wasn't, she attended all classes that day. She was tier two, so I didn't have do a visual check that she was in each one."

"What class did she go to during this time?" I caught Jenna give Ranger an appraising glance as she spoke. Was I the only one uncomfortable? I glanced over at Dr. Turner, who was still reading her own stuff and not paying attention to the rest of us. I didn't dare look in Ranger's direction because if he was staring at Jenna with anything less than pure hatred I would probably try to beat him to death with the computer.

"She worked as a student aide during that hour. I watched her walk into the teacher's office and sit down on the opposite side of the desk. It looked like she might be helping to grade papers. I waited in the hall until the teacher came in. He started talking to her about some of the papers and shut the door. I figured she wasn't going anywhere at that point and went back to my rounds."

"Which teacher was this?"

"Dr. Ester from the history department. She worked for him on Tuesdays and Thursdays. She worked for Mr. Hatch in the English department on the other three days."

Jenna typed some notes into her timeline, her long fingers moving quickly over the keyboard.

"Okay, the next notation I wanted to review with you was November first, which was a Saturday. You documented that Talia and a friend named Amanda Morrison had been observed arguing during free time by the pool. Did you overhear the nature of their discussion?"

I shook my head. "I could just see them arguing, but I wasn't close enough to hear it. It didn't escalate beyond a few slightly heated exchanges so I didn't feel the need to intervene. After a minute or two they settled down and just didn't talk to each other anymore. They seemed back to normal the next day."

"Did you not feel the need to ask Talia if everything was okay?" Jenna inquired.

"I'm here to protect them from harm, not hold their hand." I said, thinking of what Paul had told me the first day back after Talia's death. "My job is to watch out for threats to their safety, not solve their problems or help them make good choices. Obviously if I notice something that I think needs addressed by faculty, I inform them."

Jenna raised a thin, shapely eyebrow. "That is an excellent answer," she said. "That is exactly the kind of thing you need to impress upon opposing counsel tomorrow because they will almost certainly ask that same question. You're very good at this, Stephanie."

I resisted rolling my eyes, but managed a small smile instead. We spent the next hour going through my notes on Talia and just discussing my observations of her in general. I decided to mention my suspicion that she had feelings for her friend since the argument with Amanda had come up.

"What made you think this?" Jenna asked, clearly surprised.

"Like I said, I can't prove anything. It was just a gut instinct. The argument in November was one of those times. It felt like a spat with an unrequited crush. And I had spent enough time monitoring these students to know that she would be by Amanda's side any chance she got. She made an effort to make her laugh and always wanted to be on her good side. It could have been that she was just desperate to keep the friendship as well." I said with a shrug.

"And you hadn't seen her show that type of interest in any boys?"

I shook my head. "She had some male friends, but it was as though she was one of the guys. And she seemed to be able to take or leave their friendship."

I was finally allowed to leave around eight-thirty. I found Paul talking to my B-shift counterpart, Sean Huffington, at our shared cubicle.

"You're up next," I told him as I unlocked my drawer in the desk. Sean was in jeans and a black polo shirt with black sneakers. He had tried way too hard to look casual. Probably someone told him the lawyer was hot. Paul clapped him on the back and both men walked away. I grabbed my normal work gear and started attaching it to my body. I logged in and made a note for Paul to adjust my start time since I hadn't been able to log in when I arrived. I turned around and bumped into Ranger, who grabbed me by the arms to keep me from falling over.

"Geez, announce yourself next time," I muttered, pulling away from his grip as quickly as I could.

"Is your mic off?" he asked. I checked and nodded. "I tried to give you a heads up about Jenna," he said quietly. "Don't ignore my calls. As pissed off as you may be with me on a personal level, you still work for me and I need to know that you will answer."

"But that wasn't a professional call, it was personal," I shot back. "Professionally, I don't give a rat's ass about Jenna. She is the school's lawyer, that's all."

"Just answer your phone," he replied. "If I'm calling you, it's for work reasons. You've made it clear to me that you want your space and I'm trying to respect that."

I rolled my eyes. "You could have had Paul call me if it was just professional courtesy to let me know that I was being drilled by your fuck buddy–I mean, the school's lawyer."

He stepped slightly closer to me so that our bodies were almost touching. I could feel the heat from his body and it felt like a magnetic pull that threatened to draw me closer. He lowered his mouth to my radio-free ear.

"I love you."

I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away from me. "Don't!" I hissed and quickly walked away.

I didn't slow down until I was in the middle school building doing my checks. Telling Connie and Lula about what had gone on with Ranger and hearing their views on it had caused the dam in my emotions to break. I was no longer numb with occasional bouts of anger or pain. I was actively angry and hurting. And now I was faced with a second day of sitting in the same room with Ranger and Jenna while they probably imagine screwing each other senseless on the conference table. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to kick Ranger in the balls. I wanted to run away. But I wasn't going to do any of those things. I would keep doing my job and living my life. I had discovered I could channel my feelings into energy to keep me sharp during my long work days. On my days, off, I found that I could use that energy on a bottle of vodka or my newly purchased vibrator, which had been suggestions from Connie and Lula, respectively.

I wasn't working the next day, but I had to be at the lawyer's office at four for the deposition which meant I couldn't lay around making screwdrivers while I watched the morning talk shows. I took a shower after lunch and thought about trying to look sexy. Granted I wouldn't be noticed next to Jenna and her double-D cups, but it didn't mean I had to look like a bridge troll either. I paired a full skirt in navy blue with a dressy white shirt and matched it with high heels. I left the top two buttons open on the shirt to allow the idea that maybe there was cleavage to be seen, but there wasn't. I spent more time getting ready for this meeting than I had dates.

The office was near Rangeman on the twentieth floor of a twenty-two-story building. The décor was ultra-chic, but also comfortable. The firm took up the entire floor and after giving my name I was escorted to a large conference room on the opposite side of the building. Ranger was already inside along with Jenna, who was sitting entirely too close to him. I saw her hand slide along his thigh before she knew I was in the room.

"Are you ready?" she asked, jumping up out of her seat as I walked into the room.

"I think so," I replied. Today Jenna was in a power suit of dark green with a crisp white shirt under a matching jacket. Her red hair was parted to one side and straightened. Ranger was dressed in a black suit with matching black tie and shirt. I saw him give me a slow scan as I walked into the room.

"I will let Jack know we are ready to begin," she said and left the room. I stood awkwardly next to the end of the table.

"Sit here," Ranger said, indicating the chair Jenna had just vacated. "Jenna will sit on the other side of you."

"Are you sure? I mean, how is she supposed to grope you while she listens to me detail my perspective of a dead girl's last three months of life?" I asked with feigned innocence.

I could tell I had pissed him off. "We'll talk about this afterwards. Now sit down."

I did as I was told and stared straight ahead at the windows, which showed a beautiful view of the city. A court reporter came in a few minutes later and set her machine in the corner. I could only imagine what she thought as she watched us sit in stony silence.

The parents' lawyer was a man named Jack Yeager who was around five-four, average weight and looked to be in his seventies. He questioned me for over an hour about my observations of Talia in the months I worked at the school. I didn't feel nervous as I answered the questions, because they were basically the same things Jenna had just asked me the day before. I may hate everything else about her, but had to admit she was a pretty good lawyer. At least in this instance.

I was the last person to be deposed, so I had to make the uncomfortable walk to the elevator with Jenna and Ranger. I had my keys in hand, ready to bolt to my car as soon as I reached the building's garage. Jenna kept up a running dialogue of what she thought would happen with the case while the elevator descended to the basement garage.

"I feel for Talia's parents, but they don't stand a chance of winning this. Like you said, Stephanie, the school is there to educate the students and to keep them safe. They aren't the virginity squad. And there were no signs that she was depressed or suicidal so the school didn't fail to seek treatment for her."

Ten more floors. Nine more floors. Eight more floors. I watched the lights above the doors slowly count down. Almost there.

"Do you have plans for this evening, Carlos?" Jenna asked as we all stepped off the elevator.

I didn't look back or make any sort of gesture of farewell as I started walking quickly towards my car. It was parked at the opposite end of the garage, which hadn't seemed so far away when I arrived. I unlocked the car and practically jumped inside. I let out a sigh of relief that I had gotten away from Ranger and was about to start the car when the passenger door opened and he climbed inside.

"Get out of my car," I said, pointing at the door.

"I told you we were going to talk afterwards," he replied.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"Too bad," he said. He didn't look at me or make any attempt to speak for a couple of minutes, which only made me more irritated. He knew it was hard for me to be in close proximity to him, no matter how angry I was.

"What are we supposed to be talking about?" I asked impatiently.

"I tried to apologize to you the next day, but you didn't want to hear it," Ranger said. "I'm giving you space and it seems to only be making things worse. You seem angrier with me now."

"Of course, I'm angry! I've just had to spend two days trapped in a room with you and Jenna!" I shouted. "Every time I look at her all I can think about is her naked ass bouncing on you. I wonder if she knows about us and if she's genuinely being nice to me or if she's trying to get a dig in at me. And every time I think of you I wonder if you are imaging her naked and if you're still sleeping with her. And I keep wondering why the hell you bought that house and then left the key with me!"

"And every time I look at you I wonder if our child would have looked like you," he snapped. It was so out of character for him that the shock must have shown on my face because he shook his head and ran a hand over his face.

"I had to be here since I own the company and Jenna was the school's lawyer when Rangeman got the contract. That's how I met her," he said quietly. "I'm sorry you had to be part of this. But to answer your questions, Jenna doesn't know about us. She thinks you're just an employee. She is genuinely being nice to you because she is a nice person and she likes you. No, I'm not sleeping with her nor am I imagining her naked. And I bought that house because I wanted us to live there together. I thought it was more in keeping with who we both are than the apartment."

He reached for the door handle, but didn't climb out of the car. "I love you, Stephanie. That's never going to change. I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. But this must be your decision. It can be tomorrow or ten years from now. If you want me, I'm yours." He gave a rueful smile. "I'm yours even if you don't want me. The house is in your name. You can do whatever you want with it. Live there, sell it, it's your call." He opened the door and climbed out of the car. I watched him in the rearview mirror as he walked to his own car.

Something that had been bothering me since talking to Connie and Lula was the suspicion that I had grossly underestimated Ranger's feelings on the miscarriage, even after the fight. It was still hurting him. Even if he tried to hide it.

The sun was setting as I turned off the alarm on the house in Coral Gables. I was standing in a living room with dark wood floors, white built-ins on either side of a marble fireplace, and French doors on the opposite end of the room. A manila envelope with my name on it was propped up on the mantle. I recognized Ranger's handwriting, but didn't open it right away. I wanted to see the entire house. The French doors led to a large kitchen and dining area. The counters were a similar marble to the fireplace with white cabinets and stainless steel appliances. The dark wood flooring carried through from the living room. The flooring was the same throughout the house except for the bathrooms. The bedrooms all had large windows and the master bedroom had a walk-in closet along with a small bathroom. It was a beautiful house. I could see what he meant by it being suited for us both. Despite the fancy cars and designer clothes and high-end apartment, Ranger was a simple man, at least in terms of his day-to-day needs. I didn't know much about his family, but I had guessed that he grew up in a blue-collar family like mine, only with three times as many kids.

I sat down on the floor of the master bedroom and opened the envelope. The title for the house was inside along with various other papers about the property. There was also a handwritten note from him.

 _ **I bought this place for us to live in together. I still want that. But the house is only in your name, so you can do what you like. I love you, Stephanie. –Carlos**_

My throat tightened as I read the signature. The only time I had ever called him Carlos to his face was when we had been in Hawaii pretending to be married. I had always called him Ranger. It felt more intimate to call him Carlos, which seemed crazy because there were a bunch of people who called him Carlos that were strangers or acquaintances. It was nice when I thought about it. But it also made my chest hurt. It made me think of Jenna calling him Carlos. It made me think of the way he had snapped at me when he said he kept thinking about how our child would have looked. How many houses had he looked at to find the right one, only to have our relationship start to fall apart before he could even show it to me? How much thought and effort did he put into finding just the right place? I felt tears on my cheeks as I thought about how much of this was my own fault. I had hurt him more than I could have possibly anticipated, all because I had wanted to spare myself the possibility of some pain that I would have eventually learned to live with had it happened at all. Had I told him, I probably wouldn't have been working as a BEA. I may have never lost it. We would have already been a little family.

What Ranger had done to me was painful, but I couldn't feel so angry about it anymore. I knew he was sorry and that he should have handled it all differently. But I knew I was also at fault. I had given him mixed signals and a couple of tough emotional blows. Ranger was a very logical man, but he was also emotional at times. It was something I didn't often see because he kept it in check, but I had noticed in the past six months that there had been more glimpses of that part of himself than in all the years I had known him. Just one more thing to make me feel worse.

The truth was that I didn't need to forgive Ranger so much as I needed to forgive myself and ask him if he could ever forgive me. I wasn't sure if either thing was going to be possible. Or if I even deserved it.

I don't know why I decided to go for a drink at Bamboo while still dressed in my deposition clothes. Maybe it was because I was depressed from seeing what could have been my life and the dawning realization of my role in all of it. Or maybe I felt like I deserved to be used. When Dante Salazar approached me as I sat at the bar drowning my sorrows in a vodka, I was desperate for a distraction. I danced with him when he reminded me that I owed him one from the night I had been there with Lula and Connie. He asked me why I was drinking alone in a club on Valentine's Day and I told him I didn't want to talk about it. As he danced behind me, I felt his erection dig into my back and his hand move up to my breast. He had asked if I wanted to go up to his private room and in less than ten minutes I was bent over a table while he thrust into me from behind. The sex was rough and without thought of anything but an orgasm. He hadn't bothered to remove any of my clothing, but had simply pushed my underwear to the side before slipping on a condom and getting down to business.

I somehow got talked into going back to his place and the sex continued, though with less clothing and more comfort. After my third mind-blowing orgasm of the evening, I fell asleep in his bed and mumbled something about him waking me up in time for work at seven.

After a few agonizing minutes of consciousness, the next morning, I rolled over to find that he wasn't in bed. I had been avoiding someone who wasn't even there. Fantastic. I found my clothes neatly laid over a chair in the corner of a large bedroom with large windows and a skylight. I hurried off to the bathroom and was dressed and back out in less than five minutes. I wasn't sure where I was at or where my car was. And my cell phone said it was six-thirty-five. I had to be to work in thirty minutes.

"Good morning," Dante said as I walked out of the bedroom and into a large, state-of-the-art kitchen. He was shirtless in a pair of black shorts and sitting at a bar reading something on an iPad and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Hi, I have to get to work. Where is my car? And where am I exactly?" I asked as I pulled my hair into a sloppy ponytail.

"Your car is out front. I had my bodyguard bring it here. And we are at my house in South Beach," he said with a smile. "You're a bit of a light-weight there, baby."

"Thanks," I said quickly. "I had a nice time. I'll see you around. Sorry to rush, but I really need to get to work."

I hurried through the house, found the front door and was pulling away from the house by six thirty-nine. There was no time to go change or even stop to buy a new outfit. At least no one from the school would have seen me in these clothes. As I drove through the city towards MPA, I did an examination of my conscience. When I had been torn between Morelli and Ranger, I had felt guilty and slutty on the rare occasions I had slept with them both within a short timeframe. I figured I should feel guilty about my one-night stand with Barajas, but I didn't. Maybe a little because it hurt Ranger, but not because it weighed on my conscience as morally bankrupt. A one-night stand with a stranger should be making me feel horribly guilty, but so far, I wasn't feeling anything but amazingly refreshed considering I was still wearing yesterday's clothes. The sex had been phenomenal and a welcome distraction to my personal problems. Maybe that was why I hadn't felt guilty yet. But I figured it was only a matter of time.


	16. Chapter 16

Truly hating yourself is easier than I realized. I had always assumed that people could be disappointed in themselves, but that true self-loathing was difficult to attain. It only took about seven hours for the realization of what I had done to hit me like a train. And it hit so hard and fast that it actually knocked the wind out of me. I stood in one of the restrooms and hyperventilated for a few minutes before I calmed myself down enough to walk out. I pretended to be sick and left work early. It wasn't hard to pass off considering five percent of the students and staff were currently out sick with the flu. I drove back to the motel and didn't leave my room for the next three days. Sakina came to check on me after the second day, worried that I might be dead in my room. I assured her I was fine and went back to bed.

I forced myself to examine every part of my life over those three days, cataloguing all the mistakes I had made over the past couple of years. The most glaring one was not telling Ranger about our baby. No matter what fears I may have had about how he might respond, it hadn't given me the right to keep the information to myself. Even though he wasn't a big part of Julie's life, he still felt a responsibility to her. He still paid child support even though he was no longer legally obligated to do. He visited on occasion and had nearly died trying to save her from a lunatic. It also hadn't been fair to Morelli for me to be with him and be pregnant by another man. I had failed myself, Ranger, and our baby by going out to work a dangerous job where I got hurt and that baby never got the chance to be born. One of the most painful admissions of all was that I had imagined myself as a mother. I had imagined being pregnant, giving birth and raising that child with Ranger. But once I realized it would never happen, I had buried all those feelings and dreams.

I had been punishing myself ever since telling Ranger about it. Moving to Miami had not only served as an opportunity to start over, but had sent me away from easy contact with him. Going to live in a city where I knew nothing and no one felt like something I deserved. Letting myself sleep with Barajas hadn't been just a drunken mistake, but somehow was also fueled by the idea that I didn't deserve to be with someone who cared for me. I had known he was into me and that there was a small chance that he might want to get busy after going out for the evening. And I hadn't done anything to stop it from happening. And then I had sex with a stranger to top it all off. I hadn't remembered giving Salazar my phone number, but I got a text message the night before I went back to work asking if I was busy. I deleted the text message and blocked his number. I didn't know what I was going to do to fix my life, but I knew it couldn't involve sex with Dante Salazar. I also threw out all the alcohol bottles and my vibrator. I couldn't keep numbing all the bad feelings with booze and orgasms. I had to stare them in the face and deal with them, no matter how much it hurt.

I signed up for overtime during the next two weeks. I hadn't accrued sick days yet, so I hadn't received any sort of pay for the two days of missed work. Being at work seemed healthier. It kept me involved with people and with a purpose, even when I was sitting on overnight monitor duty watching for kids who might be trying to sneak out. I had several instances where I had wanted to call Ranger and beg his forgiveness, but stopped myself from doing so. I wasn't sure if I deserved to have him forgive me. I had been surprised to realize that I had forgiven him for the whole thing with Jenna, especially as the light of my own wrongdoing had become more obvious.

Like the Thanksgiving break, MPA sponsored a spring break trip for anyone not leaving the school. This year they were going on a ski trip in Utah and I was the sole member of security along for the ride. There were only twenty-three students going and only three of them had elevated security. Since the sole tier three and one of the tier two students were girls, it had made more sense for me to go. The other chaperones were one of the school nurses, the headmistress and two male teachers. I had never been skiing and hoped that I wouldn't be expected to do so.

We were scheduled to leave the first Saturday morning of March. I was going to leave my car at MPA and ride with the students on the bus to the airport. I informed Sakina that I would be gone for the week, just in case she got worried or thought I had abandoned my stuff. I did take out all my valuables and hide them under blankets in the cargo area of my car. Just in case people in the area who knew I was staying there had noticed my absence. I also had to stop at Rangeman and dig through the unit where my stuff was being stored to find my boxes of winter clothes. Most of the things I had with me at the motel wouldn't be practical at the snowy mountain resort.

As I waited at a stoplight near the school, I glanced over at the Catholic church on the opposite side of the road. I had accompanied some of the students to Mass on Sundays at that church. I hadn't been able to fully believe in God and an afterlife for a while, but I still carried the Catholic guilt. I made the split-second decision to pull into the church's parking lot, causing a bunch of horns to blare in the direction. I made the sign of the cross as I entered the sanctuary and made my way to the confessional. There was a priest already on his side as I closed the door and knelt. He opened the sliding door to the screen once I had taken position.

"Are you here to confess your sins?" the anonymous priest asked as I made the sign of the cross for a second time.

"I am," I replied. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been at least five years since my last confession. I have lusted after men and acted on those feelings. I got pregnant and the baby died because I was careless. I have hurt people who love me. I have lied more times than I could possibly count. I've hated others and myself. I've refused to forgive others. I don't know how to forgive myself for the pain I've caused others. And I just seem to keep making it all worse."

I wiped away tears as I waited for the priest to respond.

"Have you tried to make amends with those you have hurt?" the priest asked.

I shook my head, then remembered that he couldn't see me well. "No, because I don't feel like I deserve their forgiveness."

"You must make amends for the pain you've caused. Whether they forgive you or not is on them. God calls us all to forgive others as He forgives us, so you must also forgive those who have hurt you and let go of the hatred you've felt towards them," the priest said, his voice deep and reassuring. "And you must forgive yourself. Forgiveness does not mean that sins are condoned or excused. Forgiveness means that you are not willing to allow that pain to continue to get in the way of serving your God and doing the works He calls you do to do on Earth. You must learn to forgive yourself as God forgives you. Or else you are going to continue in this path of sin."

"How do I do that?" I asked.

"You just do it. There is no secret to it. Recite twenty Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers in addition to forgiving yourself and others, making amends and relieving yourself of hatred."

I left the church with twenty minutes remaining before I needed to be at the school. I took the time to recite everything the priest had ordered. Not that I believed it was necessary for God, but because it felt like something I had to do for myself. After the last verse, I sat in the quiet stillness for a minute and watched as a Latina mother with her young son walked up to the church.

"I forgive you," I said quietly. Was it that simple, to just say the words out loud? I wasn't sure, but hoped to spend my time in Utah figuring it out.

xxxxx

"Do we have to ski while we're here?" one of the sixth-grade girls asked as the kids unloaded from the resort shuttle that evening. I had followed them in a rental car, thankful to be away from the noise for almost an hour.

"You aren't required to ski," Dr. Turner said as she checked names off on a clipboard. "But it would be pointless to not ski while at a ski resort. If you don't know how to ski or aren't confident in your skills, they have trainers and beginner slopes."

We were staying in one of the smaller lodges on the property. It looked like an enormous log cabin and had ten rooms where students would stay four to a room. Chaperones were staying two to a room, with Dr. Turner getting her own room. I was sharing with the school nurse, Mindy.

We all had dinner in the communal dining room and the students were confined to their rooms by nine. Unlike the New York trip, there wasn't as much safety risk involved overnight, so Dr. Turner had utilized an age-old way of knowing who tried to sneak out at night: putting a piece of Scotch tape over the door. It would tear if someone opened the door. Clearly someone had been a camp counselor in her younger days.

"I've never been skiing," I admitted to Mindy as we crawled into our respective beds that night. "I wish I could join the group hitting the bunny slope. But I'll be stuck with wherever Amelia Van Goethe goes since she has the highest security level. Maybe she hates to ski."

"You can only hope," Mindy said. "I just hope no one falls and breaks their neck. I hate activity-based trips like these. Because I'm the one who will be bandaging everyone up or going with them to the med center for any broken bones."

"Better you than me."

The first sign I got that maybe God was forgiving me for all my stupidity came the next morning when Amelia said she wasn't feeling well and was going to stay in the lodge all day. One of the younger girls also decided to stay in the lodge and I spent the morning playing Scrabble with her. I checked on Amelia every hour to make sure she wasn't just pretending. But I could tell she was in pain because she was curled up in her bed under the covers. She had looked pale on the plane ride and the nurse had been worried that the flu might be making a comeback. She told me it was cramps and that she had taken something for it.

The group came back around five and everyone ate dinner together. Amelia still wasn't feeling well and barely touched her food. She got more pain medication from the nurse and went back to bed. Not that I wished cramps on anyone, but I was hoping she might still be under the weather enough to stay indoors for a second day. I had started watching the new Gilmore Girls series on Netflix and was hoping to finish it. One kid had fallen down a larger slope and Mindy had been forced to take him to have an examination at the local med center. He had sustained a mild concussion and would be banned from skiing the rest of the trip. Mindy would have to check on him every two hours through the night to make sure he wasn't in a coma. Her alarm going off also meant that I woke up every two hours as well.

"I think Amelia's really sick," Kelly McCann said the next morning at breakfast. "She's shivering and holding her stomach."

"Crap," Mindy groaned. "I'll have to check on her. If she's coming down with the flu, this is not going to be a fun trip."

I followed the nurse to Amelia's room while she checked her out. She took her temperature and asked her a bunch of questions. Amelia looked terrible. She was ghostly white and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. She stayed under the covers while she spoke. Mindy told her it might be a virus and gave her something to help the fever come down.

"If she still has a fever after twenty-four hours, I'll have her go to the med center," Mindy said. "She might have picked up something from the plane. If so, we'll probably see more people get sick."

We exchanged mutual grimaces and I waved goodbye as she headed out with the skiing group. I also had the added responsibility of keeping an eye on the kid who hit his head the day before. He seemed fine to me, but he wasn't one I knew very well. He sat in a corner of the common room and played on his computer for the entire morning. I checked on Amelia every hour as I had the day before. She didn't seem to move from her bed, but always told me she didn't need anything when I asked.

At noon, I made sure the boy with the concussion ate and went to check on Amelia to see if she wanted any lunch. There was no answer when I knocked on the door, so I went inside and announced myself. The bed was empty and the bathroom door closed. I rapped lightly on the door.

"How are you doing, Amelia?" I asked. No answer came. I knocked again, louder this time. "Amelia? Are you okay in there?"

When she didn't answer the second time, I tried the door knob. It wasn't locked. "I'm coming in," I said, keeping my eyes on the floor in case she was naked. I opened the door slowly and saw the corner of Amelia's pajamas pants on the floor. As the door opened further, I realized the pants were still on her body and her body was lying on the floor. She had apparently been trying to use the toilet when she collapsed. There was a pool of blood underneath her and her pants were down around her knees.

"Oh, my God," I said, reaching for my phone. I punched Mindy's contact and waited for her to answer.

"Amelia's passed out in her bathroom floor in a pool of blood," I said once she connected.

"Call 911," she said. I could hear her huffing. "I'm on my way."

I called 911 and felt for a pulse on her neck. It was weak, but there. Amelia was burning up to the touch and her skin clammy. Mindy came rushing into the room ten minutes later.

"Had she started feeling any worse?" Mindy asked as she took Amelia's pulse.

I shook my head. "No, she said she didn't need anything when I check on her at eleven. I came in at noon, she didn't answer when I knocked, so I opened the door and found her." I nodded to the blood under her. "That seems like a lot of blood for a period."

Mindy shook her head. "She has uterine cysts. One of them may have ruptured."

The paramedics arrived along with Dr. Turner a few minutes later. They started an IV and asked a bunch of questions about what had been going on before her collapse. Mindy and I provided details as they loaded her onto a gurney.

"You two need to go to the hospital with her," Dr. Turner said as Amelia was wheeled out.

Mindy and I hurried back to our room, grabbed our things and were told that she would be taken to the nearest hospital, which was a twelve-mile trip. Mindy was on the phone with Dr. Turner through the trip, giving her information to give to Amelia's family. We pulled into the hospital parking lot and went into the emergency room entrance. We identified ourselves at the desk and were told to take a seat. They were doing examinations now and someone would be out to update us once they knew more. Amelia's father had been notified and he was trying to get a flight out of Miami while he notified her mother in Turkey.

A young male doctor came out to update us an hour later. He introduced himself as Dr. Rudi.

"Amelia is being prepped for surgery," he said. "She has suffered a ruptured uterus from an attempt to self-abort an early pregnancy. She regained consciousness long enough to tell us that she used a pair of knitting needles."

"Oh, my God," Mindy moaned, putting her head in her hands. "How bad is it?"

"Our main concern is that she's septic. We may not be able to save the uterus, but that may prove to be the least of the problems," the doctor said. "We'll update you once she is out of surgery. I just got off the phone with her father and relayed the same information to him."

We were shown to the surgical waiting room where we got cups of gross coffee. She called Dr. Turner with an update while I debated who to call. Paul was on vacation in California this week. I didn't want to bother him even though I knew he wouldn't mind. Mario was the head of the Miami branch, but I didn't know him very well. I wanted to talk to someone I was comfortable with, which left Ranger. I hit his number in my speed dial and waited three rings for him to answer.

"Stephanie?" he said, as though he couldn't quite believe it might be me. He used to answer the phone with _Babe_ when I called in the past. But I told him never to call me that again and he was respecting that.

"Yeah, I didn't know who I should call," I said, my voice shaking slightly.

"What's wrong?"

I brought him up to speed on Amelia and told him I was at the hospital with the nurse waiting on word of her condition.

"Do you need anything from me?" he asked.

There were so many things I needed from him, but none of them were appropriate to discuss given the situation. "No, I don't think so. I just thought I should inform someone more senior than myself. Paul's on vacation, so I didn't want to bother him."

"Keep me updated," he said. "Are you okay?"

"A little shaken," I admitted. "I've found more than my fair share of dead people, but seeing a teenage girl lying in a pool of her own blood is something very different."

"Do you want me to send someone out to relieve you?"

"No, it's okay. Her father is coming out. I figure we can leave once he gets here. He's taking a private plane, so he should be able to get here by tonight. Her mother won't get here until tomorrow. She's coming from Turkey."

"Take care of yourself."

"I will," I promised.

Mindy and I were able to leave the hospital around eight that evening once Mr. Van Goethe had arrived and been updated on his daughter's condition. The surgeon had been forced to remove her uterus in order to help prevent the infection from getting worse. She was septic, which meant that the infection had spread to her blood stream. A post-surgery CT scan had shown swelling on her brain, which meant she had to be kept sedated to allow the swelling to go down. Mr. Van Goethe's despair had been difficult to watch.

"I'll take her belongings to the hospital tomorrow," I told Dr. Turner once we had arrived back at the lodge. "Her mother should be here by then."

Dr. Turner nodded solemnly. She looked about ten years older as she leaned her head back against the chair she was sitting in.

"We've had pregnancies in the past," she said. "Teenagers make mistakes no matter how intelligent they are or how wealthy their parents may be, but not two in one year. And not this much tragedy in one year either. I worry about what parents are going to start thinking. And I worry that maybe we aren't doing enough. We must be missing something. Some way the kids are sneaking around that isn't obvious to us."

I had the niggling feeling that it was something more serious than that, but I didn't say anything. Dr. Turner was having a hard-enough time without me making it worse. We all were.

The rest of the students were told that Amelia had been taken to the hospital and was in ICU, but the details were kept private. I had the girls in her room show me what all belonged to her and I packed it up to take to the hospital the next day. I had a hard time sleeping that night, the image of Amelia lying in her own blood flashing through my mind every time I closed my eyes. My conversation with Ranger was also weighing on me. It was the first interaction since the day of the deposition nearly a month earlier. He had sounded mostly normal, maybe a little surprised to hear from me. I could imagine him sitting at his desk working, maybe staring at his phone in shock when my number appeared.

I drove Amelia's belongings out to the hospital the next day. I pulled over at a McDonald's and looked through her things before getting there. I found a box of pregnancy tests with two already used hidden at the bottom of her suitcase. Both indicated a pregnancy. I looked through her purse and found a small notebook hidden in the lining. It was the exact same type of notebook that Talia had in her desk. I opened it up and found the same odd handwriting with a bunch of random numbers. I took pictures of the pages that were filled and put the notebook back where I found it. Amelia's parents, who had been divorced for fifteen years, were sitting next to one another holding hands as they watched their daughter. Both were highly successful people in their respective professions, but in that moment, they were parents who were heartbroken over their daughter's life being in the balance.

"Thank you," Ambassador Van Goethe said as I handed over Amelia's belongings. "You're Stephanie, right?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm Amelia's assigned security personnel on my shift."

"She likes you," her mother said tearfully. "She told me you do your job without being obnoxious about it like some of the others. She appreciates that." She let out a shaky sigh and looked back at her daughter. "Does she have a boyfriend? I haven't heard of anyone, but she got pregnant somehow."

I shook my head. "I haven't seen her with anyone. She's always busy studying or talking to her friends if she isn't at practice. She seems like the type of girl that wants to focus on herself right now and worry about dating later. If there is a serious boyfriend, I haven't seen him."

"Maybe she doesn't know how to handle it all. If I hadn't taken the post in Turkey ," she stopped as tears fell down her cheeks. Mr. Van Goethe walked over and put an arm around her.

"Mandy, you cannot blame yourself," he said, a slight accent in his voice. "She is a good girl. We will get through this together."

The next three days felt agonizingly slow as we supervised the students on their trip. They didn't know the extent of Amelia's problems, so their concern was genuine but limited. Dr. Turner, Mindy, and I seemed to be the ones struggling the most. Both women had acknowledged they were having trouble getting past what they had seen. Amelia regained consciousness on Thursday morning after her body began responding to the antibiotics and the swelling on her brain went down, but it was suspected that she had suffered some brain damage from the swelling. She went through a battery of neurological tests on Friday that showed a moderate amount of brain damage. She was struggling to use the right side of her body and had lost the ability to speak. Because she was still young, the doctors were hopeful she could possibly regain some of her lost functions, but Harvard would be out of the picture. Her parents were arranging for her to go to a rehabilitation facility in Miami and adjusting their own lives to ensure that at least one of them was always nearby.

It was pouring rain as I climbed into my car on Friday evening feeling like I had been kicked around the block. The weight of my own problems had been heavy enough, but having Amelia's heartbreaking future added to it made me feel like I couldn't manage anything else. I pulled out of the campus and drove to the house a few blocks away. I couldn't bring myself to go back to my sad motel room just yet. I let myself in and sat down on the living room floor opposite the fireplace. I listened to the rain hitting the roof and thought about another MPA girl whose life would never be the same. She had survived, but for what kind of life? It wasn't certain how much lost function she could regain, but it was clear that all the hard work she had put into getting accepted to Harvard was going to have been for nothing. I felt guilt wash over me as I sorted through my brain, trying to figure out what I might have missed. All of these girls had been under my watch for several hours a week since October and somehow, I had let them all down. Maybe it was because I had been too wrapped up in my own problems or maybe it had been because they had been good at deceiving adults. But one girl was dead, one was missing, and one was likely permanently disabled. I couldn't let go of the feeling that they had all been connected somehow. The notebooks in Talia's and Amelia's belongings told me that the two of them had been connected to the same someone, though how and who was unclear. I didn't work again until Monday, but I intended to try to find Macy's belongings to see if she had a notebook of her own. That way I could prove to others that it wasn't all in my head.

I hadn't realized I was crying until I felt strong arms wrap around me and pull me into a firm, Bulgari Green scented chest.

"Let it all out," Ranger said quietly as he held me close and pulled me into his lap. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head as I sobbed into his chest. Tonight, was the night we would finally talk about everything. Once I pulled myself together.


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: This will be a long chapter because it will be looking at what Ranger has done leading up to the end of chapter 16 and going from there. So get a snack (or a drink) and enjoy.**_

 _January_

"You really fired Phil?" Tank asked. We were alone on the line after finishing up our monthly conference call with all of the branch managers.

"He deserved it," I replied. "Ignacio could have killed Tyler. He was charged with aggravated assault and Tyler's going to be off work for at least three months. I'm lucky he isn't suing. Maybe because I told him I would give him full pay while he's off."

"Damn. I didn't know it was that bad. I'm surprised he ignored it."

"He thought Stephanie was being dramatic," I said, remembering the way my blood pressure had risen when he said that with an eye roll included.

I heard Tank snort on the other end of the line. "How's that going?"

"Radio-silence since the fight two weeks ago. The only reason she talked to me that day was because Phil ignored her."

"You still banging the lawyer?"

"No, I'm not," I said dryly.

"Mind if I take her for a ride next time I'm down there?"

"You can keep her," I said as I hung up.

I had woken up every morning since December twenty-second with a knot in my chest. We had never been at odds like this and I didn't know how to cope with it. I had heeded my father's advice to give her space, but had been forced to expand upon what he had intended. He hadn't known that I always made sure I knew where she was. I promised myself that I wouldn't check on her unless there was a genuine concern for her well-being. But damn, it was hard. I had been keeping tabs on her for over three years. I had always known where she was, even when I was out of town. On the rare occasion, I had been out of the country and unable to access the system, I had known Tank was watching her for me. But things were different now. She wasn't tracking down criminals anymore, but was in one of the safest field jobs in the company. Always knowing where she was had been another way I had been in control of things in our relationship. And control was something I was trying to give up, even though it went against every one of my instincts.

I had no idea what my father said to my mother after Christmas dinner, but it had her calling me every week to check on me with a casual ask of how Stephanie was doing. I had to inform her each time that I hadn't talked to her and that I was giving her space. She would try to offer advice and I would find a reason to end the call as quickly as possible.

I wasn't used to living in Miami. I hadn't stayed here for more than three weeks at a time since I had been in the Army. And it had shocked the hell out of me one night to realize that I was lonely. I wasn't used to the feeling, mainly because I preferred solitude. It was much easier to be anonymous in Miami than it had been in Trenton. I had earned a reputation with Trenton police, the criminals, and the Burg residents with mixed results. Rangeman had a good reputation in Miami as a business, but my personal reputation was mostly limited to Little Havana. In Trenton, I'd had Tank, who wasn't only my employee but my best friend and Ella, who had been more like a surrogate mother than housekeeper. And Stephanie, who had managed to capture a piece of me that I hadn't imagined giving to anyone. I didn't have a best friend in Miami or a housekeeper. And now I didn't have Stephanie. I had family here and I knew if I wanted to visit them they would be more than happy to have me, but it wasn't the same. I wasn't sure if I would stay in Miami if it looked like Stephanie had no intentions of forgiving me. I didn't want to consider that possibility.

I wondered if Stephanie had told anyone about what had happened as the month passed without any sign of her. She was a fairly private person, but still confided in her family and friends more than I did. The question was answered the day Lula and Connie showed up at Rangeman. They had informed the front desk that they were there to see Stephanie and that she was living in my apartment. The men at the desk had said Stephanie wasn't living there, but Lula hadn't accepted their answer and had started threatening to pummel them if they didn't let them see their friend. I had been forced to go down to the lobby when I saw Lula climb on the front desk.

"Why can't we see Stephanie?" Lula had demanded when I appeared.

"She isn't living here anymore. She's staying at a motel north of here in Wynwood," I said. Connie had looked surprised and concerned behind Lula, who hadn't found my answer acceptable.

"And why the hell is she staying in a motel? What did you do to her? Did you hit her?" she asked suspiciously. "Because if you hit her, I don't care how hot you are, I'll squash your pretty face with my Via Spiga."

I gave Lula an icy stare intended to tell her I was done with the conversation. "I did not hit her. You'll have to talk to her about it. Now you need to leave. I'll text you the address of where she's staying, but she won't get there until at least eight. She's working."

I walked back to the elevator without waiting to see if they left. Lula would keep up the argument until I was forced to kill her. Then Stephanie would never forgive me.

 _February_

I hated Monday mornings as much as the next person. The only time in my life when they had held little significance had been while I was in the Army. When you're deployed, every day was like the fresh hell of a Monday morning. In the business world, Monday mornings meant phone calls from people who either didn't work on the weekends or those who thought you didn't and that Monday morning was the perfect time to try to speak to you. The second Monday in February turned out to be a particularly hellish one.

"Hey sexy," Jenna said as I answered her call. I cringed internally at the sound of her voice. When Rangeman had first gotten the contract with MPA, a phone call from Jenna had been the promise of great sex. Since December, just the thought of her made me sick to my stomach. Not that it was her fault I had fucked up so badly. She had just been along for the ride as she had been in the past.

"How can I help you?" I asked.

"Do you know that Talia Berkovich's parents are suing Menendez for negligence?"

"I did. Rangeman isn't included in the lawsuit."

"No, you aren't, but as the security contractor you were part of the group that had supervision responsibilities. The parents' lawyer has been reviewing Talia's security plan since she had an elevated security designation and wants to interview the staff who monitored her regularly. Stephanie Plum and Sean Huffington along with your head of security, Paul Hernandez. Is Stephanie the woman I met at the Governor's party?" she asked.

"Yes, she is. When does he want to meet with them? I want to be there," I said, pulling up my calendar on the computer.

"He wants to meet with them on Wednesday. He's scheduling times for them to come in between noon and four that day. But I need to meet with the three of them tomorrow to do prep work. He is moving quickly on this and not giving me much time to get my own stuff together."

I pulled up my email and sent one out to Paul. "Stephanie and Paul work tomorrow so they will already be there. I'll have Huffington available as well. What time will you be at the school?"

"I want to get started early. It might take a while to talk to the three of them. When do shifts start?"

"Paul and Stephanie will both be in the office by seven in the morning," I told her.

"Perfect. I'll be there by seven. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. If my employees are going to be interrogated by a lawyer, I want to be there."

"Even by me? I'm on your side."

"You're still a lawyer."

"True, and I suspect you don't always follow the law," she said, a flirtatious tone to her voice. "Do you want to get together tonight?"

"No," I replied. "If you don't need anything else, I have more calls to take."

I wasn't looking forward to sitting in the same room as Stephanie and Jenna, especially two days in a row. To say it was going to be uncomfortable would be the understatement of the century. At least it was going to be uncomfortable for Stephanie and me. Jenna had no idea the role she had played in everything and Dr. Turner would be oblivious to the fact that she was the only woman in the room that I hadn't had sex with. I considered calling Stephanie to tell her that Jenna would be interviewing her tomorrow–because that would be what bothered her far more than the aspect of being interviewed by an attorney–but I didn't want her to spend the entire day worrying about it. I would wait until tomorrow morning and call her before she got to the office. Stephanie was better if she had a little warning than if she had too much or none at all.

"I really could have used you last night," Jenna told me while we waited for Stephanie to arrive at the deposition on Wednesday afternoon. "I had to end up taking care of myself."

"You'll just have to keep doing that," I told her. "I don't think it's smart for us to be having sex when you're the counsel for one of my clients. Especially one currently wrapped up in litigation."

She put a hand on my thigh and started to run it up to my crotch, but quickly pulled it away and jumped out of her seat when she saw Stephanie appear in the doorway. Shit. That wasn't going to make Stephanie want to fix things anytime soon. I thought there was a decent chance she had broken one of my toes the day before when she rammed her heel into my foot under the table.

When Jenna asked if I was busy that evening as we stepped off the elevator into the parking garage, I couldn't help but wonder if she was testing the waters to see if there had been something between Stephanie and me by trying to make her jealous. Stephanie had left the elevator like a bat out of hell and I firmly informed Jenna that I had meant what I said about not being involved with her. I had hurried after Stephanie and managed to get in her car before she pulled out of the spot. I felt out of my depth as I tried to find the right things to say to her. The space was killing me and she only seemed to hate me more. I wasn't sure if it was something I had done or if it was just the progression of time that had fueled her anger. I was glad when she mentioned the house in Coral Gables. I had the alarm set up so that I would be alerted if she used her code on the keypad, but so far I hadn't received any message. I went over every two weeks to check on the house and saw that the envelope I had left on the mantel was still there. I had considered the possibility that she had thrown away the key without ever finding out what it opened. I was surprised when the system sent me a text message an hour after leaving her that said she had entered the house. It gave me a small sense of hope that maybe things were turning around. But when a week passed without any contact and without her entering the house again, the hope faded.

"There's a Rachel Martine here to see you," the front desk informed me on the last Friday of February.

"Send her up," I said. Rachel had only been to my office a couple of times since I had opened it three years ago, and never unannounced. I watched as one of my men escorted her to my door, surprised to see her dressed up. I stood up and greeted her as she walked in the door. Our short-lived marriage may have only been for the sake of the child we had accidentally produced one drunken night, but I cared about Rachel. She had given up her life plans to raise our child and had never hated me for it. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and we sat in the guest chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Rachel heaved a heavy sigh and laid her head back on the chair. "My life's a mess."

"Welcome to the club."

She turned her head to look at me. "What's going on with you?"

I waved a dismissively hand. "Long story. You?"

She took a minute to reply. "Ron and I are getting divorced."

I hadn't been able to hide the shock on my face. "Really? I'm sorry, Rachel."

She opened her purse and pulled out a tissue as she started to cry. "About a month ago, I was going through the browsing history on our computer trying to find a website that I had visited. I was wanting to book a cruise for our anniversary. While I was doing that I saw that one of those married people cheating websites had been visited almost every day. I clicked on it and saw that he had an account and that it kept him logged in." She blew her nose and reached for another tissue. "His profile said he joined just after the beginning of the year. It said he was married and had three kids. He loved his family, he wasn't looking for a relationship, just casual sex. I confronted him about it. He said he hadn't actually met up with anyone, but that he had been looking around. He had made plans to meet up with a couple of women, but then couldn't bring himself to do it. I told him to get out of my house. He left and has since moved in with one of those women he claims to have never met. I filed for divorce a week after he moved out."

"Do you think there's a chance you can work things out?" I asked.

Rachel shook her head. "No, I don't. He wants to try, but I don't think I can. I'm having to try to find a job for the first time in my life because we can't survive on child support alone, and even then we may have to sell the house. And my lawyer told me that Ron's lawyer is making noises about him not paying child support for Julie because you already do and you pay so much. He said I should be using that money to live on, not having it sent directly to some private school when Julie can go to public school for free."

I gripped the arm of the chair and imaged breaking it over someone's head. I couldn't decide if it should be Ron's or his lawyer's. "That's bullshit."

"It is. You aren't legally responsible to pay that child support. You do it because you want to, which is what my lawyer is arguing. Ron is her legal father and legally responsible for her. He shouldn't get out that because you're a good man."

"Do you need money?"

Rachel shook her head vigorously. "No, I didn't come here for money. I came here to see if you could talk to Julie. She's angry with Ron, understandably. But she's refusing to go see him. We have the custody schedule set up for now where the kids rotate between us every three days. She argues with me every time and tells me that she doesn't want to see him. The last two times she has refused to get out of the car when I dropped them off. Ron tried to physically pull her out of the car the last time and she took off running. I had to find her in the car three blocks away. He thinks I'm trying to turn her against him and I'm not. She has convinced herself that our divorce means his adoption of her will be nullified somehow. I've explained to her that it doesn't work that way, but she's convinced she is going to find some way to reverse it all. She wants his rights to be taken away and yours to be reinstated so that she never has to see him again."

A wave of guilt hit me as I thought about Julie. I had allowed Ron to adopt her because I knew he would be a good father to her. Would their divorce have hurt her this much if I had maintained my rights? I took a second to push those thoughts aside.

"When do you want me to do it?"

"She is supposed to go over there today after school. Could you pick her up and take her to Ron's? You could talk to her before you get there. Maybe she'll hear it better from you. I don't know. I hate to ask you, but I'm desperate."

"It's fine. I'll do it," I said. "She's hurting, but she'll get through it. She's a tough kid."

"Thank you," Rachel said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper with an address. "That's where he's staying. I'll leave her stuff with him when I drop off the other two kids, so she just needs whatever she's bringing from school."

She stayed a few more minutes and told me about an interview she was going to for a nanny position. She hadn't felt qualified for anything else and thought it was ironic that she had to get a job to raise other people's kids while her parents had to babysit hers for a couple of hours after school. After I walked her to the elevator, I called my accountant and authorized additional child support to be sent to Rachel. The support I already paid was sent directly to MPA each semester since Julie had started at the school. I didn't want her life to have to change any more than necessary.

It was a B-shift day at MPA, so Sean Huffington was the person who confirmed pick up for Julie. I waited in my car until she came hurrying out of one of the buildings with a backpack that looked like it might weigh twenty pounds.

"Did you clean out your locker?" I asked as she heaved the bag into the floor board and climbed inside.

"Mid-terms," she said breathlessly. "Why are you picking me up today?"

"Your mom asked if I would do it," I said as I drove to the exit. "She told me about your dad moving out."

Julie crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "He's living with some slut named Shelby. And he isn't my dad."

"I know this is hard on you," I said. "But no matter what happens between him and your mother, he's still your father. That won't go away just because they aren't together anymore."

"Well it should!" Julie snapped. I saw anger flare through her and was reminded of the temper that I had spent years getting under control. "You only let him adopt me because he was marrying Mom. Well now he isn't going to be married to her anymore, so he shouldn't be allowed to call himself my father or make decisions for me."

I didn't respond right away, but gave her a few minutes to cool down. I knew if I said anything she didn't like she would just yell more.

"I voluntarily signed over my parental rights to him because I trusted him to be a good father to you. And he has been, even if he isn't being a great husband to your mother. You have the right to be angry with him–"

"Why can't you fight to get your rights back?" Julie asked. There were angry tears in her eyes, but she was stubbornly refusing to let them fall. "How can you say he's a good father when he cheats on my mother and tears our family apart?"

"Being a good parent and being a good spouse are separate things," I said. "I've never been either of those things, but I know people do it all the time. Your parents will too."

"But you are a good father. You pay for me to go to Menendez. You saved me when I got kidnapped."

"That doesn't make me a good father, Julie. A scholarship could pay for you to go to school. And any law enforcement officer could have found you."

"Seriously?" she said, throwing her arms in the air. "That's so stupid. You just don't care about me. Fine, I get it. Whatever."

Jesus Christ. I resisted the urge to beat my head on the steering wheel. If this was what my parents put up with six times over, I owed them big time.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Julie," I said as I pulled into Ron's driveway. "I just meant that paying for your education and finding you when you were kidnapped are different than what Ron has done. He has been things for you that I couldn't be. He is a father to you on a daily basis."

Julie added a foot jiggle to her tightly crossed arms and scowl. "Whatever. You can't be a father and not be a father at the same time. You need to make up your mind. And what are we are doing at his house? I told Mom I'm not staying here. That's why she wanted you pick me up, wasn't it? She thought you could guilt me into staying here. Well guess what? I'm not doing it and you can't make since you _aren't my father_ ," she said the last three words in a mocking tone.

I put the car into park and turned to face her. "You want to me act like your father, then I will. You are going to get out of this car and go in that house. You can be angry with him, but you will be respectful to your father and do as you're told. You will not argue with your mother about coming here anymore. And if I find out that you're still behaving like this, I'll stop paying for you to go to MPA and you can go to public school."

I felt satisfied and a little guilty at the look of shocked hurt that crossed Julie's face as I spoke. She spluttered for a few seconds, struggling to find a rebuttal. Then the anger flared up again and she reached for her bag and the door handle. She climbed out of the car, but instead of walking up to the front door, she started towards the road. I climbed out of the car and went after her. I took her backpack out of her hand and scooped her up in one arm.

"Put me down!" she shrieked. Ron was standing at the open front door watching in surprise as I carried a struggling Julie up to the stoop. I walked past him into the house and put Julie down on the living room floor and shoved her backpack into her arms. 

"I meant what I said," I told her. I turned around and left without speaking to Ron.

"I hate you!" Julie yelled at my retreating back. I climbed into my car and pulled out of the driveway without looking back.

I called Rachel as I exited the neighborhood and told her what had happened.

"I have to say I'm impressed," she said. "Now she'll hate you too. But I bet she'll stop. She loves her school."

"I wouldn't actually stop paying for her to go there," I said. "It was an empty threat."

"But she doesn't know that. You've never had to be like that with her, so she doesn't know if you'll follow through on that. She isn't going to risk it."

 _March_

Stephanie's phone call about Amelia Van Goethe stayed with me the rest of the day. The strain in her voice coupled with the image of a teenage girl lying in a pool of blood had occupied my mind through performance reviews with the office staff. I had seen grown men and women blown apart while I was deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan. But I had also seen children severely wounded or killed and knew that those struck harder than anything else. Stephanie would be haunted by it, no matter what horrible things she had seen during her time as a BEA.

That night I did something rare and took the night off. I made myself a sandwich and took it along with a beer to the living room. I reclined in one of the chairs and turned on the television. I flipped through the channels, not finding anything that interested me. I hadn't heard of most of the shows that were on since I rarely turned on the television and those times usually involved watching a ball game. I had scrolled through fifty channels before I found _Ghostbusters._ It was Stephanie's favorite movie, though I had never watched it with her. I selected it and began eating my sandwich. I had been amazed to see her number on my phone earlier that day. I had been in a meeting with the director of Human Resources when she called and I had stepped out to take the call. She had chosen to call me even though Mario was the branch director and she knew Paul would have preferred her to interrupt his vacation with this news. She hadn't been hostile or indifferent. It had been our most normal conversation since December, even if it was about a tragedy.

I had looked up Amelia Van Goethe and found that her mother served as the U.S. Ambassador to Turkey and her father split his time between Miami and Amsterdam. What had their last conversations been with her? She may not survive and they would be stuck replaying their last memories of her over and over in their heads. It made me think of my last conversation with Julie, where she had told me she hated me and I had dragged her into her father's home. She was currently in Georgia with him and her siblings visiting Ron's father. Rachel had called to thank me for sending more child support and to tell me that she had gotten the position as nanny. She informed me that Julie hadn't been fighting her visits with Ron anymore, but that she was a misery to be around the rest of the time. She had stopped talking about the adoption issues and muttered nasty comments about me under her breath on the couple of occasions when Rachel had mentioned my name. After a few minutes of debate, I paused the movie and reached for my cell phone. I found Julie's number and waited for the connection. I was sent to voicemail in the middle of the second ring. She didn't want to talk to me.

"Hey, it's Julie. Leave a message!" her normally happy voice informed me.

I hesitated briefly before speaking. "Hey. I know you're still pissed at me. I don't know if I handled everything right that day or not. I don't know much about being a father to you." I paused again, mildly uncomfortable with what I was doing. It wasn't normal for my relationship with her, but felt like something I needed to do. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you, even though I haven't been a big part of your life. I don't say that kind of thing to you, but maybe I should. I loved you enough to give you the father you deserved instead forcing you to keep the one nature dealt you. I know you're still mad at him too and you have every right to be. But you'll get through this. You're a strong girl. I did what I did because I love you and if you want to hate me for it, I'll understand. But I still love you. You're still my daughter, no matter what a paper says. No one can take that from us. Be good to your mom. She's struggling too," I said and disconnected. I wasn't sure how that would be received, but it felt good to say it. I didn't want to risk the last conversation with Julie to be an angry one, even if it was one-sided.

A text message came through on my phone five minutes later. It was from Julie.

 _ **I love you too. I'm sorry I said I hated you. I didn't mean it. Can you pick me up one day after school next week? I promise I'll behave. :)**_

 _Just clear it with your mother and I'll be there,_ I replied.

Stephanie updated me via text message the rest of the week. Amelia had pulled through surgery and had remained in a medically-induced coma for a couple of days to allow swelling on her brain to go down. By Friday morning, it had been discovered that she had suffered brain damage and would need significant rehabilitation to be able to regain her speech and motor function on her right side. While I was sure Amelia's parents were relieved to have their daughter survive, I wondered if Amelia would share their feelings. She had been bound for Harvard in the fall. It seemed unlikely she would ever make it.

I headed towards MPA on Friday afternoon in the pouring rain, intending to meet Stephanie once the bus arrived at the school. I knew she would be still bothered by what happened in Utah and I decided that I needed to break my rule about giving her space to make sure she was okay. But a major accident brought traffic to a standstill for over forty minutes, which meant I was going to miss her. As traffic began creeping along, I started planning the best route to take to her motel in Wynwood. I was almost to the exit I needed when a text message came through on my car. I commanded it to read out loud so that I didn't have to take my eye off the road.

"Alarm disabled at 7320 Palm Court with code assigned to Stephanie Plum," the automated voice said. I hadn't expected that.

I passed the exit and continued through the city towards Coral Gables. The hope that had risen in me in February threatened to return the closer I got to the house. I couldn't get ahead of myself and start making assumptions about what it meant that she was there. Making assumptions had been a big part of our problems. Her car was parked in the driveway and there was a light on in the living room. I hurried to the porch as the rain fell harder. I shook off the water and hesitated before I opened the door into the living room. I couldn't hear anything from inside the house over the rain. I opened the door slowly and saw Stephanie sitting on the floor against one wall. She had her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, crying. I sat down on the floor next to her and pulled her into my lap. I buried my face in her hair and breathed in her scent, feeling like the world was right for the first time in nearly three months. She clung to my shirt and buried her face in my chest.

I had no idea how long we sat there, but after a while she stopped crying and we sat there in the quiet while she sniffled and calmed herself down.

"What do you need?" I asked. "Do you want to kick my ass? I won't stop you."

That elicited a small laugh mingled with a sob from her. She sat up and reached for her messenger bag. "No, I don't want to kick your ass. You should probably be kicking mine."

"The only thing I want to do to your ass is something you aren't into," I replied, which made her laugh again. She blew her nose with a tissue she pulled out of her purse.

"Don't make me laugh," she said. "This is all so messed up."

I rubbed her back. "You had a rough week. Seeing a kid hurt isn't easy."

"It isn't just her. It's us. And me. I'm a horrible person."

"If you're a horrible person, then I'm Satan himself," I said.

I watched Stephanie as she stared at her feet, which were on the opposite side of my legs as her body. She rested her forearms on her knees and fiddled with the tissue in her hand.

"I came down here wanting to fix my life, but I've only managed to screw it up differently," she said quietly. "I don't know how to fix it. I tried going to confession to see if that would help me be able to stop hating myself, but I'm not sure if it worked."

What the hell had happened to her? Stephanie wasn't the self-loathing type. She might have regrets, but I had never heard her talk like this. My heart jumped to my throat as the worst possibilities filled my mind.

"What happened?"

"I slept with a complete stranger on Valentine's Day after giving that deposition," she said, her eyes closed in pain. "I went to a club that I had gone to before near the motel. He had tried to pick me up that night, but I was with Lula and Connie. He owns the club and had a separate room. Then I went home with him that night. I wore the same clothes to work the next day because I didn't wake up early enough and ended up leaving work early because I so disgusted with myself that I couldn't focus."

"Babe," I said, then grimaced. "Sorry, habit. That doesn't make you a bad person. I know enough about using sex with strangers to deal with pain. I'm not claiming to be a good person myself, but of all the sins I've committed that's pretty low on the list. I went out and had sex with a stranger the night you told me about the miscarriage."

She burst into a fresh set of tears and I immediately tried to fix my mistake.

"Stephanie, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you. I've done that enough lately," I said, tentatively reaching out to stroke her hair.

"It isn't that," she said through sobs. "I'm crying because I've been hating myself for not telling you about the baby when I found out I was pregnant and for getting hurt chasing down criminals and losing it. This whole thing has been my fault. I'm the one who is supposed to be sorry."

I held her again as she cried. She wasn't the only one hating herself at the moment. I had been hating myself since December and it managed to increase tenfold in a matter of seconds. Watching her suffer like this was unbearable.

"What happened between us isn't your fault," I told her once she calmed down. "I was the one who screwed up by sleeping with Jenna and yelling at you. And I have to accept some of the responsibility for you not feeling like you could tell me you were pregnant. I knew I had made it clear that I wasn't prepared to settle down back then, but I hadn't meant for you to be so afraid of me rejecting you that you wouldn't tell me about an unplanned pregnancy."

"The only thing I wanted to hear from you was that you wanted to be with me and raise our baby together," Stephanie replied as she wiped away tears. "But I never thought it would happen. I don't know what I expected. Even if I hadn't lost it, it was going to come out eventually. I wouldn't have been able to hide it. I wouldn't have been able to pretend it was Morelli's. I did decide to tell you. I went to your office a couple of weeks after I found out and you were in Boston. I didn't want to tell you over the phone, so I decided to wait until you got back. But then I lost it and decided to keep it all to myself. I guess I was afraid of hearing you say it was a good thing because it would have just caused problems."

I remembered that trip to Boston. One of my men had mentioned that Stephanie had come to the building looking for me. Since she hadn't tried to call me and there hadn't been any indication of a problem, I hadn't followed up. Things had been awkward between us in those first few weeks after coming back from Hawaii. She had avoided me as much as possible, though we did have sex in Joyce Barnhardt's pantry. Which had been the last time we had sex.

"I don't know what to say to make you feel better," I admitted. "Yes, I was hurt when I found out, but I understand why you were afraid. I don't hate you for it, and I definitely don't want you to hate yourself. You may have had that miscarriage anyway. We can't know that you would have given birth."

For the first time since I had arrived, she looked me in the eye. "Can you forgive me for it?"

"You don't need my forgiveness."

"I do, even if it's just for me," she said. "Because it might help me be able to forgive myself."

"Then I forgive you," I said. "If that will help you, then I'll say the words. I'll dance if have to, but please don't make me."

She gave me a light punch in the chest as she choked back a laugh. "Do you have some sort of sickness where you can't see tears without cracking a joke?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty serious one. It's called being in love. I've heard it's pretty common and there is no cure."

I couldn't help but smile when she rolled her eyes at me. There was my girl.

"Can you forgive me?" I asked. "I hurt you pretty badly."

"I already have. I realized that recently. I feel like I contributed to that happening with keeping the pregnancy a secret and sleeping with Barajas. Another example of my moral bankruptcy."

"I have you beat in the moral bankruptcy department," I said as she leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around her and laid my cheek on her head. "You're like someone who maxed out a few too many credit cards and can't pay them off. You'll recover and eventually it'll be like it never happened."

"What is yours like?" she asked.

"Enron."

She gave me a light pinch on the thigh. "You're a good person. You just need to talk to me more and show me that you have human emotions on a regular basis. And quit trying to control everything all the time."

"I know, and I'm going to do the best I can," I assured her. "I need you to call me out on it when I don't. And I need you to talk to me whenever something is wrong. You tend to only want to deal with personal problems if you think you have the upper-hand. If not, you run away. And we both have to stop assuming we know what the other one is thinking and just fucking ask."

I felt the sigh rather than heard it. "I know. I'm working on that. You need to call me out on it if I do it." She snuggled closer into my chest. "But I think we need to start slow. Not just jumping into bed or moving in together right away. There are a lot of things I don't know about you."

"I'll tell you anything you want to know," I said. "But how slow are we talking about here? Are we acknowledging that we've had sex before or pretending we just met?"

I heard Stephanie snort and she sat up to look me in the eye again. I had missed those blue eyes so much. I kissed her on the tip of the nose, which made her grin.

"You know it's hard for me to keep myself in check when we're sleeping together. I just want us be smart and not repeat the same mistakes. I need to have my wits about me while I work on getting my shit together again."

When she put it that way, who was I to argue?

We sat together for a while as the rain outside started pummeling the windows once more. My hand traced a path along one of her thighs while she traced a small circle around my abdomen with her thumb. I noticed the knot in my chest had disappeared.

"Can I ask you one more thing before we put this whole mess behind us?" Stephanie asked as my watch beeped, indicating that it was midnight.

"Sure."

"Why did you call Jenna _Babe_?"

I took one of her hands and held it between both of mine. "I wasn't calling her that. I was having a bout of guilt for what I was doing and I had closed to my eyes and tried to imagine it was you. I had planned on telling you that I wanted a relationship that night and figured we would barely make it in the door before we tore each other's clothes off. I was trying to pretend that it had happened the way I thought it would. I didn't even know I had said it out loud until you told me about it later."

She absorbed the information and nodded without further comment on it. I kept waiting for her to say I could call her Babe again, but she didn't. It had been unrealistic to hope for it. We got up from the floor a few minutes later and made our way to the front door.

"How do you feel about the house?" I asked as Stephanie reset the alarm. "If you don't like it, we can sell and get something else."

"I love it," she said. "I was thinking I would go ahead and move in here."

"Good," I said. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and lowered my mouth to hers. We were both breathless when we broke apart.

"We need to get out of here before we break the new rules," Stephanie said with a smirk.

I shook my head and took her hand as we stepped out into the rain. "You and your rules."


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: Back to Stephanie.**_

When I opened my eyes on Saturday morning, it was to the cracks in my motel room ceiling and the sound of _Waterloo_ by ABBA. That meant Ranger was calling my phone.

"I'll be at your door in five minutes," he said once I managed to answer the phone.

I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, pulled my hair back and put on a pair of shorts before Ranger knocked on the door. I opened it to find him dressed in normal Rangeman attire and holding a bag from a bakery along with coffees in a cardboard carrier.

"Please tell me those are donuts," I said as he walked past me. He handed me the bag and I peeked inside.

"The way to Stephanie Plum's heart is through her stomach," he said as I pulled out a Boston Crème. I accepted my coffee and went to sit on the loveseat by the window.

"You already have my heart. I think this is a weak attempt to get in my pants."

"They're multi-purpose donuts." He took a seat next to me and glanced around the motel room. "I lived in a dorm room in college that looked better than this."

"Did you have a reason for this visit or did you just come to insult my accommodations?" I asked as I polished off the first donut and reached my second donut. It was obvious that while he was wonderful, he wasn't perfect– there were only two donuts in the bag.

"One reason was to make sure I hadn't hallucinated last night's talk," he said. "The second was to be able to give you a kiss." Which he proceeded to do with a lot of tongue and a boob graze. "And the last one was to tell you that I've arranged for all of your things in storage to be moved to the house today. They should be done by four."

"Seriously? Thank you," I said, genuinely touched. I leaned over to give him a kiss, which he elaborated upon by running a hand underneath my shirt and circling one my nipples with his thumb.

"My pleasure," he murmured against my lips.

"I bet."

He looked down the front of my tank top to see the work his thumb had done to my nipple and gave me a mischievous grin. I smacked his hand.

"Okay, you've had your fun," I said. I offered him a bite of my donut, but he shook his head. I finished it off and wiped my hands on a discarded towel. "I had better get packing then. I need to vacuum and clean before I leave."

"The maid does that stuff." 

"Not in this room," I said as I started picking up dirty laundry and tossing it into the bag I hauled to the laundromat every week. "I couldn't afford the weekly rate they originally offered me, so I told them I would do all the cleaning and I wouldn't eat the continental breakfast so they could lower the price."

I got wrapped up in picking up my clothes and didn't think anything of Ranger's silence. I turned around to see him staring around the room with an odd expression on his face. I waited for him to notice me, but he seemed caught up in whatever was going on in his head.

"Thinking about your old dorm room?" I joked.

Ranger seemed to come back to the present without commentary of where his brain had been. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not really. I'm sure you have better things to do," I said. I hesitated before asking a question that had crossed my mind last night as I had driven home in the rain. "Are we monogamous?"

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head slowly. "No, I'm not. We didn't actually say we were last night. I just thought I should make sure we were on the same page."

I wanted to shrink under the expression on his face. Clearly, I had hit a nerve asking this question.

"Is there someone else you're wanting to date besides me?" he asked coolly.

"No!" I said. "I just thought– in case you wanted–,"

"I thought I made myself clear that I only want you," Ranger said. He tossed his coffee cup in the trash. "To answer your question, yes. We are fucking monogamous." He opened the door and left without another word.

I stood in my room holding my pajamas from the day before while I tried to figure out what just happened. I hadn't expected his reaction to be so emotional. He was the one who said we had to quit assuming things about each other. That was all I had tried to do. I guess it wasn't unusual that there would be some awkwardness in the beginning after everything we had just been through. I wasn't sure if I should apologize to him later or just let it go and act like nothing happened.

I loaded everything into my car and called the front desk around two-thirty to let Sakina know that I was going to be moving out and waited for nearly an hour while she did an exhaustive check of the room for cleanliness and to account for everything that had been in the room before I had moved into it. Once the room received her approval and I thanked her for her kindness, I got in my car and drove away from the shitty part of my life in Miami.

There was a Rangeman employee supervising the movers when I arrived at the house. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they had not only put everything in the right rooms, but they had also assembled my bed. By the time I had hauled in my suitcases and boxes, they were pulling away from the house. I wrinkled my nose at the way my hand-me-down furniture looked in the pretty house. I would replace most of it as soon as I could afford it. I turned on music on my phone and set to unpacking the kitchen because it had the fewest boxes to unpack. I discovered as I opened my second box that it would have even less to unpack than I had thought because my dishes and glasses had been broken at some point since leaving Trenton along with the slow cooker that I had won in a bingo game and used exactly once. I pulled out a piece of paper and kept a running list of things I would need to buy. It was so long by the time I finished unpacking the kitchen that I decided to go shopping before I moved on to another room.

Ranger was waiting for me when I returned laden with bags from Bed, Bath, and Beyond and Publix three hours later.

"Did you buy out the store?" he asked after I made my second trip into the house with bags.

"Almost," I said. "A lot of my kitchen stuff got destroyed so I had to buy new things. Then I decided I should have actual kitchen supplies for my beautiful new kitchen and I went kind of crazy. And I needed food."

Ranger helped me put away the groceries and open the boxes of plates, glasses and cookware. He seemed normal, so I was hopeful that whatever had been bothering him earlier in the day was over. I headed to the bedroom and began looking for my bedding. Having a kitchen and bedroom in order were the biggest necessities. I could figure out the rest tomorrow. I found my sheets and started putting them on the bed.

I felt Ranger watching me as I worked on the fitted sheet. "I'm sorry about how I acted this morning," he said quietly.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I responded, trying to keep my tone light.

"It isn't fine," Ranger replied. "Don't dismiss it. The only thing you did was ask a reasonable question. You could have assumed that we weren't seeing other people and would have been right. I was the one who said we had to stop assuming things about each other." He ran a hand through his hair and came over to help me with the sheet. It seemed like he needed to have something to do while he spoke. "I knew you were staying in a cheap motel, but when you told me that you had to barter with the owners to clean your own room and not eat their cheap breakfast in order to afford it I felt like shit because I was the reason you felt the need to leave in the first place. Your stubbornness pissed me off because you have known about this place since Christmas Day and chose to stay there and struggle financially than to move in here. I had been thinking about that when you asked if we were monogamous. It seemed like you hadn't believed me when I said I only wanted to be with you."

We spread the quilt out over my bed as he continued. He didn't seem to want to look directly at me, but gave a lot of focus to smoothing out wrinkles. "I was angry a lot growing up. I was the youngest of six kids and the smallest boy in my grade until I was in high school. I always felt like no one wanted to hear what I had to say or that they didn't believe me when they bothered to listen and it made me bitter. I got over it while I was in the Army. I learned how to control my anger. I became confident enough to not feel the need for anyone's approval beyond the extent that it served my own purpose. The reason I've managed all of that is because I have worked hard to always keep my emotions under control at all times. I know that I can't be that way with you if I want this relationship to work. But it's hard to open like this and feel like I'm someone you would want to be with."

I paused in the process of stuffing a pillow into its case. "So, what you are saying is that by exhibiting normal human emotions that I won't want to be with you anymore?"

Ranger raised an eyebrow and considered that for a moment. "It makes me sound ridiculous when you put it that way. But yes, that's basically it."

I couldn't help my shake my head and fight a laugh. Only Ranger would see being a normal human being as a bad thing. I threw the pillow on the bed and crawled across it. I got up on my knees and put my arms around his neck.

"I want you to be normal. It frustrates the hell out of me sometimes when you're so calm," I said, which made the corners of his mouth twitch. "There are times when I need that because I'm freaking out and I need someone with a level head to remind me that it isn't so bad. But there will be times when I need you to fight with me. And there can be times when I'll be the calm one so you can be the emotional one."

Ranger kissed me lightly on the lips. "I'll do my best not to be an asshole."

"You should use those as wedding vows one day." That made him laugh.

Once the bed was put together, we started opening other boxes. The first box was all the winter clothes that I would never need while in Miami. I left everything in the box and put it in the top of the closet. The next box I opened contained a bunch of stuff I hadn't looked at in a long time. High school yearbooks, my old baton, ribbons from when our marching band had gone to state competitions, a scrapbook I had made as a requirement in my Senior English class. Ranger selected the yearbook from senior year and flipped through the directory in the back until he found my name. He found the first page, which should me as baton twirler in the marching band. He shook his head.

"I'm dating a band geek," he muttered.

"I wasn't a band geek," I corrected him. "I didn't play any instruments. I threw a baton in the air and caught it about a third of the time."

He flipped through a few more pages and found my individual photo. "You don't look much different, except you straightened your hair back then."

I pulled a strand of curls straight. "Maybe I should get a blowout sometime. I haven't straightened my hair in years. It might help with the frizz."

I caught a small grimace from Ranger. "What?"

"I like your curly hair," he said, flipping through the book to look at a few more pages. "It suits your personality."

"Insane?"

"Your word, not mine."

I looked through the rest of the box and started feeling sad. My high school years had been filled with football games, sneaking out the bathroom window, losing my virginity to Morelli at the Tasty Pastry and the friendships. I had been a mediocre student, not because I hadn't been capable of doing the work but because it hadn't been a priority. I was now surrounded by kids who did all those things but only after they had made sure their school work was perfect. And three of them were missing out. It made me realize I had never shared my speculation about the girls with Ranger.

"So, I should tell you something, but I need to tell Carlos, my boyfriend, and not Ranger, my boss," I said as he put my yearbook back in the box.

He raised an eyebrow and I imagined he was trying to figure out what the hell I was about to dump on him. He sat down on my bed and pulled me over to stand between his legs, his hands resting on my hips.

"Okay, tell me what's going on."

"I think there is something going on at the school with these girls," I said. "After Talia killed herself, I took copies of her and Macy's school records and started comparing them to see if there was overlap in their schedules and activities. I also searched through her belongings before they were packed up." I trailed off guiltily, but Ranger didn't say or do anything so I continued. "I found a notebook in Talia's belongings with a bunch of random numbers written in it. I looked through Amelia's stuff when I was taking it to her parents in the hospital and I found a notebook hidden inside her purse with the same type of writing and numbers. I took pictures of the pages, but I don't know what they mean. I copied Amelia's school records when we got back to the school last night and I'm wanting to go through Macy's stuff because I can't shake this idea that she's somehow involved. Maybe she got pregnant and ran away. Or maybe she got pregnant and someone took her or killed her. I don't know."

"So, you think Macy was pregnant and that it was reason for her disappearance and that Talia and Amelia were also impregnated by the same person?"

I nodded.

"Any overlaps in their records that make you suspicious?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at Amelia's entire record yet, but I know her schedule better since she was my tier three. None of them were the same classes together. Amelia has two of the same teachers as Talia and four of the same teachers as Macy. Macy only had one teacher in common with Talia. Macy played lacrosse, Talia played soccer, Amelia played field hockey. Amelia was the only one who played an instrument. Talia was in choir. Macy was on the debate team. The only extracurricular activities that ever overlapped to my knowledge were the occasional community service outings. They were all in different grades and socialized in different circles. Macy didn't really have friends, Talia was universally popular with a ton of friends, and Amelia just had a couple of close friends who don't know anything."

Ranger considered me for a moment. "Teenagers get pregnant sometimes. It happens across all classes and races. In theory, these kids should be less likely to get pregnant because they are generally more informed about reproduction, but the reality is that they are probably less likely to use protection because they can't stop at a drug store to buy condoms or visit Planned Parenthood for birth control pills without someone from the school finding out. They are away from their families on a co-ed campus. Dr. Turner believes that the girls might be seeing guys while they are out on community service duty and that is how they got pregnant. She doesn't want to consider that they could be getting pregnant on campus. Nothing you've told me gives me a reason to think they are connected to each other. Are you sure you aren't just feeling guilty about this? All of these girls were on your roster."

"Yes, I feel guilty," I said. "Does that mean I'm crazy to imagine something odd is going on here?"

"No, it doesn't. But I have a responsibility to my employees. You have violated about four different conditions of our contract with MPA and if they found out the board could decide to terminate our contract early or not renew it next year. There are thirty-one full-time and six part-time Rangeman employees at MPA. I would have to lay off at least thirty of them if we lost this contract. Most of these people have families. I can't put their jobs at risk because you have a theory."

"Okay, whatever. I'm crazy," I said, pulling away from him. "I'll let it go."

"Stephanie –,"

"It's fine," I said, holding my hands up. "Really. I need to get back to unpacking anyway."

Ranger didn't say anything else but watched me as I unpacked my suitcases and put my clothes in the dresser and closet. I put my bath towels in the little closet in the bathroom and my toiletries in their appropriate places. I heard Ranger leave the room and eventually it sounded like he was on the phone. I couldn't hear his conversation, but it lasted a few minutes. He came back into the bedroom once he finished.

"I just got off the phone with Dr. Turner," he said. "I told her I had concerns about these situations possibly being related to one another and that I wanted to do an internal Rangeman investigation to see if there was some way that we needed to improve our work, especially when students with elevated security tiers are being impacted. I told her I wanted to have you doing the groundwork since you're a woman and it would be easier for you to get information out of the kids. She likes the idea and is going to get it approved by the board. If they agree, you will get access to all student and employee records. I also asked to search the three girls' belongings. It turns out that Talia's belongings haven't been sent to her parents yet and Macy's are being held in case she turns up before the end of the year. Amelia's are being picked up on Wednesday by her parents. She said she'll call the board on Monday to get approval. She only needs three of them to say yes."

I stood in the middle of the bedroom blinking stupidly for a minute until the information processed. "You did all of that just because I have a theory I can't prove?"

"I did it because I trust your instincts. I know you'll feel bad if you don't look and eventually you'll start looking and likely get caught. I don't want to have to fire you or risk losing our contract."

"You just can't stop being my boss, can you?" I asked as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I held out for a few minutes," he replied. "When you're talking about work, it's a little hard to keep Ranger out of it. But I like it when you call me Carlos."

"Hmm." I placed a kiss on his lips. "You do?"

"It is my name," he replied, giving me a kiss in return. "And it's who I want to be here with you."

"Then that is who you are while we're together and away from work. And please stop calling me Stephanie when we're alone. It's weird and kind of makes me want to cry."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded and nestled into his chest. "Yes. You told me that you were thinking about me when you said it. It's still weird when I think about it, but we said we're putting this behind us so that's what I'm doing."

"Okay, Babe."

By the time I went back to work on Monday, the house was starting to look like a home. Internet and cable were being installed at the end of the week and my mother had been thrilled to hear I was living in a house. I hadn't told her about living in the motel room or the problems with Ranger, but I did tell her that Ranger had bought the house for us to live in together eventually and he had moved down here in December so that we could have an actual relationship. I could sense her disapproval through the phone, but she told me that all she wanted was for me to be happy so I ignored the sound of the bourbon bottle being pulled out of the kitchen cabinet.

I started my work day at seven o'clock on Monday morning, wondering what it would be like to return from a school break without a tragedy having occurred while everyone was at home. I went through the motions of checking people in as they arrived, confirming others were at breakfast and doing the homeroom rounds at eight. Convocation would be held at nine as it always was. Dr. Turner intended to announce that Amelia had become very ill while in Utah and would be finishing her work at home due to her need to recuperate. In reality, Dr. Turner was proposing to the school board that day that Amelia be granted her diploma anyway because she had worked so hard in school and fallen ill so close to graduation. Doctors seemed hopeful that Amelia could make a strong recovery, but it would be a long road.

"Damn, Plum," Torres said as he walked into the office behind me. "You're like a kiss of death for your roster, aren't you?"

I didn't realize that I had turned around and kicked him in the balls until he was lying on the ground, holding his crotch.

"Fuck you!" I yelled. "You didn't have to see that girl lying in a pool of her own blood!"

"Whoa, what's going on?" Paul said as he hurried over.

I was fighting tears of anger as I took some deep breaths. I turned around and headed towards one of the restrooms. I closed and locked the door behind me and leaned against it. I heard some mumbling, which sounded like Torres talking, followed by Paul's booming yell.

"You fucking idiot!" I heard another grunt of pain and wondered if Paul had kicked Torres.

I took a couple of minutes to calm down, splashed some cold water on my face before I headed back out into the office and towards the conference room. I found everyone but Paul and Torres already seated. I took my normal seat and waited in silence with the rest of the group who had surely heard what had gone down. Paul came in a couple of minutes later and got to work like nothing had happened. Torres limped in, an ice pack in hand and sat down in his regular seat without looking at anyone.

"We all know about Amelia Van Goethe," Paul said, clicking through the screens. "Ranger plans to do an internal investigation into what has been going on at the school. He wants to see if there is any sort of connection between the disappearance of Macy Reichenbach, the pregnancy and subsequent suicide of Talia Berkovich as well as the pregnancy of Amelia Van Goethe that led to her injury when she attempted her own abortion. He wants to know if we as the security team are doing enough when it comes to supervising the students while remaining in the parameters of our job descriptions."

So, the school board has approved the plan. I felt a small knot in my chest loosen slightly.

"Does he think there is some kind of student orgy going on?" Anderson asked. "I think we would notice that."

"I don't pretend to know what Ranger thinks, I just do my job," Paul replied. "He is having Stephanie lead the investigation on the ground here at the school since she was the staff in charge of all three girls, plus she is more likely to get information out of the kids than we are. If she has questions about something, you answer them without bitching or smartass remarks," he finished, giving Torres a pointed look.

I was vigilant as the students left convocation and went about their day. Amelia hadn't been as popular as Talia, but her close friends and people who had cared about her had seemed upset with the news. No one knew about her pregnancy either, since no vicious rumors seemed to swirl around the school. That made me uncomfortable. If one of the male students was prowling around and screwing all the girls he could, wouldn't there be some swagger and bragging? Unless it hadn't been consensual. That felt more likely and more menacing. There could be a serial rapist–or rapists, I couldn't rule out a pair or group–on campus. Grown women didn't always report getting raped because someone would just ask what they had been wearing or tell them that they shouldn't have been out after dark, in that area, or drinking while being in the same plane of existence as a man. It was certainly understandable that a scared high school girl separated from her family on a close-knit campus wouldn't want to be making accusations against a fellow student. Or a teacher, an equally sickening possibility. Amelia was the only one who could have legally consented to sex with a teacher, but it was still disgusting to consider someone using their authority over her like that.

Dr. Turner caught up with me later in the day to talk to me about the investigation.

"I want to give you access to the notes from our internal investigations as well," she said. "I will give you access to them in the computer system. There isn't an internal investigation on Macy because she didn't disappear on campus and Amelia's is still ongoing, but you can see what information we have gathered so far. Mr. Manoso told me you were the one who initially informed him of concerns."

I nodded, but waited until a group of boys were out of earshot before speaking. "After Amelia, I just had a feeling. Two girls pregnant and dying or nearly dying once they find out. It made me think of Macy and if she had been pregnant and chosen to run away. It may be nothing, but I just felt like I had to say something. I would hate for there to be something going on and we overlook it because we dismiss these as unrelated events."

"What do you think is going on?"

I shrugged. "I don't have a definitive theory, just a few different possibilities. I don't want any of them to be true. I want this to be a wild goose chase and be the end of it."

Dr. Turner stopped outside the administration building and looked around the campus. "I hope so too, Stephanie. Anyway, the girls' possessions are all packed in boxes and are being stored in the supply closet in my office. You can come by after your shift and go through them. I packed them all personally and everything they had is in there. Your master key will work on the lock. I will let my staff know to expect you in case someone comes in."

"Are you telling people that I'm investigating?"

"They think Rangeman is just doing an internal review. Which you are, but I decided against telling anyone that you believe there is a connection between the three incidents. I felt like that might taint any information," she said.

Smart woman, I thought as I walked away. I felt like we had a bond of sorts after seeing Amelia. Shared trauma had a way of unifying people.

It was midnight by the time I got home. I was surprised, but pleased to find Ranger's car in the driveway. He was sitting at my dining room table reading something on his MacBook Pro, a glass of red wine in his hand. He closed the computer as I sat down.

"Did you get lost?" he asked, offering me the glass. I took it and downed half the contents.

"I've just spent four hours looking through everything packed up from Macy's, Talia's and Amelia's rooms. No notebook or sheets of paper with weird writing in Macy's boxes, but that isn't all her stuff. She could have taken something like that home with her and it would still be in Minnesota. I looked through Amelia's stuff, but I didn't find anything else. What bothers me is what I didn't find in Talia's boxes. The notebook I found with the numbers and her journal weren't there. Dr. Turner assured me that nothing was thrown away," I said. I finished the rest of the wine and set the glass on the table. "Someone took them."

"Did you get pictures of her journal pages or just the notebook?" Ranger asked.

"Both. The journal was written in Hebrew, so I couldn't read it."

"Email me the pictures. I'll look at the numbers to see if anything stands out. And I know someone who can translate the journal entries."

The mental image of some Mossad operative translating a teenager girl's diary sent me into a fit of giggles. I suspected my laughing may have become slightly hysterical based on the way Ranger's expression changed.

"You need to get to bed," he informed me. He pulled me to my feet and marched me to my bedroom. I dug out a t-shirt and stripped out of my clothes under Ranger's watchful eye.

"No way, mister," I said as I crawled under my covers. "I don't put out until at least the fifth date."

"What date are we on now?"

"Zero!" I said. "We haven't actually gone out on a date yet."

Ranger leaned over me and planted a kiss on my lips. "First date then. Tomorrow night. I'll let you know the details later."

I think I said okay, but couldn't be sure. I was asleep before he even turned off the light.


	19. Chapter 19

I spent Tuesday morning in my living room pouring over the records of all three girls while I drank too much coffee with the _Today Show_ providing background noise. There was nothing in Amelia's file that showed me anything different than what I had already known. I had thought the girls might have participated in some of the same community service groups, but I had been wrong. Talia had preferred social activities, like volunteering in nursing homes and soup kitchens whereas Macy had regularly volunteered at a local church doing office work and Amelia had done her work in mentoring disadvantaged youth in various artistic endeavors. As for teachers, Amelia and Talia had two in common. Talia had served as Mr. Hatch's aide three days a week and Amelia had been in his European Literature class. They had both been in art classes with Ms. Lucas, though during different periods. Macy had more teachers in common with Amelia because they were in the higher grades. Macy had been in Trigonometry with Dr. Hugo while Amelia had been in his Calculus class. They had also shared the same science teacher, Mrs. Clark, and the same French teacher, Ms. Voles. Both girls also had Mr. Chaudhry, though Macy had him for government and Amelia was in his psychology class. There wasn't a single teacher that overlapped with all three girls this year, though Macy and Amelia had been students of all of Talia's male teachers at one point during high school. I figured it was safe to rule out the female teachers, at least for the time being. I could come back to them later if nothing came out with any of the male teachers or students. I would have to be at the school to access class rosters to look for any boys that might overlap in classes with the three girls.

There would be a log of any kids trying to sneak out of the dorms or into the dorm of the opposite sex in the security office, which I intended to check out. There were strict rules about that. Students were banned from ever entering the dorms belonging to the other sex. Male staff could not enter the girls' dormitory without a female staff member present, and vice versa, except for times when the school was in Code Blue or Black. Part of the school security protocol included a color-coded system. Code Green was the normal code that meant the school was secure and there were no known threats to student or staff safety. Code Yellow referred to a mild threat. It was used for bad weather, increased crime in the surrounding community, recent staff dismissals, or if there was a contentious divorce between parents happening that could mean an increased risk in kidnapping by one of the parents. Code Red was used if threats made against the school by students, staff, or parents. Code Blue referred to evacuating campus for things like bomb threats, gas leaks, earthquakes, or in the event the area was evacuated for a hurricane. Code Black meant there was an active threat on campus and that students and staff were to shelter in place while the security teams contained the risk. With the exception of a two-week period back in January when the school had been in Yellow because of divorcing parents, the school had been in Green the entire time I had worked there.

My phone dinged with a text message from Ranger shortly after noon.

 _ **I'll be there at six.**_

It took me a second to remember that Ranger had informed me we were having a date tonight. I was looking forward to what he had in mind because he hadn't told me anything about what he wanted to do.

 _Where are we going? How should I dress?_

 _ **Sexy casual.**_

I rolled my eyes.

 _What kind of sexy casual?_ I texted back. _Are we talking concert casual, backyard barbeque casual, beach casual, bar casual?_

His response was simple. _**Babe.**_

I replied with a gif of a woman tapping her foot impatiently while crossing her arms across her chest. He took so long to reply that I thought he was ignoring me.

 _ **Bar casual.**_

 _Was that so hard? See you at six._

I had some time to kill so I left the house and drove over to the school. Now that I had permission to be snooping I could go over and look at any records I wished without raising suspicions.

"You can't get enough of this place, can you?" Leo Mann asked as I checked in at the gate.

"I'm a workaholic," I said with a shrug.

It was nice to walk into work in my t-shirt, cotton capris, and sneakers. I waved to Paul as I took a seat at my desk. I now had the same level of access to the school's system as Paul, Ranger and Dr. Turner, which meant I could see everything. There were seven class periods in a day and none of the girls were in the same class. Both Macy and Talia had served as student aides during one period, which meant I had nineteen classes to look at instead of twenty-one. After trying to compare lists on various tabs for half an hour and feeling my eyes start to cross. I decided to copy the lists along with employment records of any male teachers who had taught the girls this past year to my thumb drive and take them home to read. The office wasn't noisy, but the chatter was distracting.

I stopped by Paul's office on my way out. "I wanted to check with GT on whether there had been any issues at the dorms this year. Like boys trying to sneak into the girls' dorms or anyone caught trying to sneak out at night. Where would I get that information?"

Paul started typing away on his computer. "I can pull it up and email it to you. It'll take a while to run the report."

I thanked Paul and left the office. It was the end of the second lunch period, which meant there were tons of kids swarming around the campus, hurrying between buildings to get to their next class. I waved to Julie as she walked from the building where the middle school classes were held to the library for her study hour. She had told me a few weeks ago that her parents were getting divorced because Ron had cheated on Rachel. I had the feeling she had been angry with Ranger as well because I had mentioned his name one day and she had scowled and said she didn't want to talk about him. Since I hadn't wanted to talk about him at the time either, I had been happy to move on to a different topic. I made a mental note to check on her and ask Ranger what was happening there.

I pulled up the files on my computer when I came home, but found the list comparison still hurting my brain. It was too hard to keep track of the various names and which ones appeared in multiple classes. I would see if anyone at Rangeman could run a program that would pull out any recurring names across the lists. Surely someone there was smarter at this stuff than I was.

I spent the next two hours focused on the files of the four male teachers the girls had in common. The first was Dr. Michael Hugo. He was forty-nine, originally from Seattle, married with two teenage boys. He had a doctorate from a university in Texas and had worked for the federal government for ten years before deciding to get into education. He taught at the university level for a couple of years before coming to MPA, where he had taught upper-level math for the last five years. He didn't participate in any committees or sponsor any extracurricular activities. His employment record showed he had experienced numerous clashes both with administration and other teachers. It sounded like he was an arrogant asshole who hated to have anyone disagree with him and belittled others for the sheer pleasure of it. I could see it. I hadn't interacted with him much, but enough to know that he wasn't someone I wanted to get to know.

The next teacher was Mr. Vincent Chaudhry. He taught psychology and humanities. He was fifty and the child of a British researcher and a Pakistani doctor. They had moved to Britain from Pakistan when he was three, where he lived and was educated until he came to the United States in his twenties. He had two Masters degrees, one in psychology, the other in humanities. I was surprised to discover that he was the ex-husband of Dr. Turner, the headmistress of MPA. They had been married for fifteen years and divorced two years ago. They had three daughters, aged thirteen, eleven, and nine. He and Dr. Turner had both been employed at the school for the past twenty years. His employment record was virtually spotless. A couple of complaints against him from parents who thought he hadn't graded their child's work fairly, but a review had determined he had been fair. No write-ups or clashes with anyone. He sponsored the Junior class as an advisor. I had seen him around, but hadn't spoken to him. He was an attractive man who seemed to get along with everyone.

Mr. Charles Hatch was next. Of all the teachers I was investigating, I had interacted with him the most. He was sixty-four and had been born in Omaha and was an only child. He had a Masters degree in English Literature and had worked as an editor for a major publishing company for twenty-five years before moving in to academia. He taught at the University of Alabama for six years before coming to MPA eight years ago. As of three years ago, he listed a man named Jonathan Wallace as his husband. No marriage history prior to Wallace, no kids. He had plenty of praise in his employment record for his willingness to sponsor extracurricular activities and to do after-school tutoring. He was considered a mediating force within the school. I saw that he was planning to retire at the end of the current school year.

The final teacher was Dr. Paul Ester. He was thirty-six, single, no kids, originally from Orlando and an alumnus of MPA. He had taken a job with MPA straight out of graduate school and had earned his doctorate in history while working at the school. He coached girls' lacrosse and sponsored a competitive academic team. He had a couple of write-ups for sleeping with the mothers or step-mothers of his students, but they had basically been a slap on the wrist. His father was on the school's board of directors. He was the teacher that raised my suspicions the most. He was the youngest of the four men, had a history of sexual relationships with inappropriate people, his father was on the board of directors, had coached Macy in Lacrosse and been her history teacher, and Talia had been his student aide two days a week. He hadn't been Amelia's teacher this year, but had taught her two years ago.

Two hours seemed like plenty of time to do my nails, shower and picking out date clothes. As the clock counted down to six, I was scrambling to finish my hair and make-up before Ranger arrived. Even though he had seen me looking my worst on multiple occasions, I still wanted to be completely put together by the time he arrived. I was wearing a dark purple tank top with an asymmetrical hem, denim capris and strappy brown sandals. My hair was pulled up in a ponytail, my make-up was somewhere between natural and evening and my nails matched my shirt. I put on a push-up bra to add a little cleavage. I was transferring a few items into a brown purse when I heard Ranger's car pull into the driveway. I met him in the living room. He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt, jeans and black sneakers.

"Sexy enough?" I asked.

"I was hoping for the red dress, but this is good," he replied. He slid a hand around my waist, gave my ass a loving pat and pulled me close for a kiss.

"I like the casual look on you," I said, admiring the way the t-shirt clung to his body. "There is actual color involved, not just black."

We arrived in what I assumed was Little Havana twenty minutes later. I was used to signs being posted in both English and Spanish, but now there were loads of advertisements only in Spanish. I was just about to ask Ranger when I saw a sign that said _Welcome to Little Havana._ Question answered.

Ranger pulled into an alleyway behind a plaza that took up an entire block. He parked behind a business about halfway down the plaza. A small sign by the door advertised the delivery entrance for a place called _The Little Havana Bakery._

"Are we eating at a bakery?" I asked excitedly.

"We'll come back here for dessert," he replied as we climbed out of the car. "Dinner is on the corner."

We held hands as we walked to the restaurant. It had a small section of outdoor seating and a sign written in both English and Spanish advertising live bands on Tuesdays at six-thirty, and Fridays and Saturdays at eight. The inside was deceptively larger than the outside. A stage was set up along the far wall with a decent lighting and sound system in place. Booths covered in faux brown leather upholstery lined one wall, a bar lined the opposite wall and the rest of the room was fill with round tables with mismatched chairs. It felt comfortable and fun, the kind of place hipsters would ruin if they found it. The place was busy and we followed a man in a blue shirt and jeans to a booth in the middle of the row. I took the seat that would leave my back to the door and was surprised when Ranger sat down beside me.

"You're sitting here?" I asked once the server had left us with menus. "Your back is to the door, leaving you vulnerable to ninjas and snipers."

He gave my knee a squeeze. "I can't see the band if I sit on the other side. And since I'm trying to be a normal human being named Carlos when it's just us, I'll risk the ninjas and snipers so I can see the stage and sit close to you."

I leaned into him and he put an arm around me while we looked at the menu. It looked like a mixture of Latin and American cuisine. Since Ranger had already informed me that we would be having dessert elsewhere, I restrained myself by ordering steak with a salad and french fries. Ranger ordered the same.

"Have you been here before?" I asked as my margarita was delivered to the table along with Ranger's beer.

"I'm in here a few times a year," he replied. "I went to high school with the guy who owns it."

"Did you like going to high school down here?" I asked as we watched the band warm-up.

"It was okay," Ranger replied after he took a drag from his beer. "I hated it at first. I don't know why. The only friends I had in Newark were the ones who talked me into stealing the car that got me arrested. I gave evidence against them in return for only getting three months in juvie, so it was safe to say they weren't my friends after that. I was pissed at my parents for sending me to Miami. The only one of my siblings still at home was Silvia and she was leaving for college that fall, so it wasn't like I was missing anyone. But it got better with time."

"I had no idea you had a sister named Silvia," I said. "In fact, the only things I know about your family is that you have four sisters and one brother and that your parents and a grandmother live in Newark. There's a Celia, right? And now I know there's a Silvia."

"My parents and grandmother live here now," he said. "My parents retired almost three years ago and moved. They all live here in Little Havana in the same neighborhood as my other grandmother. And yes, Celia is my oldest sister. She's forty-three, married with two kids. My brother Emilio and sister Sofia are twins. They're forty-one. Emilio is married, no kids, but not out of choice. Sofia is married and has five kids. They are all still in Newark. Aurelia is thirty-nine, married with one kid. She lives in Manhattan. And Silvia is thirty-seven, lives in Brooklyn. She is married, but no kids because she hates them."

"It's about damn time you tell me about your family," I said as the band leader started to speak. "You've had the privilege of knowing mine for a few years now."

I caught him fighting a smirk and I smacked him in the chest. The band leader informed the room that they covered songs by Carlos Santana, which made Ranger choke on his beer.

"I haven't been here on a Tuesday night before. They must save the D-listers for the slow night."

The food was excellent and the band ended up being pretty good, if you liked Carlos Santana. We stayed through three songs after we finished our meals and paid the bill. It was almost eight by the time we walked outside. We didn't go around the building to the alley where we had parked, but headed down the sidewalk that ran along the front. We passed an electronics store with bars on the windows, a laundromat where several people were either folding clothes or sitting in hard plastic chairs and a closed beauty salon before we arrived at the front of _The Little Havana Bakery_. The sign on the door said the bakery closed at eight, but Ranger opened the door anyway. I could see huge display cases along one wall, though it wasn't full. A raised counter with stools was available perpendicular to the display. There were a couple of small tables in the middle of the room and short row of booths along the empty wall. A chime sounded when we walked through the door and Ranger called out in Spanish. Seconds later, an older Latina woman appeared from a swinging door behind the display cases. She wore an apron and a hair net, though she removed both before coming from behind the counter.

"Hola, Carlos," she said, reaching up to kiss him on both cheeks. Ranger wrapped his arms around the older woman and returned the greeting. When they pulled apart, Ranger turned to me.

"This is my grandmother, Isabela Carranza. Abuela, this is Stephanie Plum."

Dear God. I was meeting Ranger's grandmother while wearing a tank top with cleavage. I might have to kill him.

"Hello," I said, extending a hand, but she pulled me into a fierce hug. I saw Ranger go over to the glass door and turn the lock. He also flipped the sign around to say _closed._

"It is nice to meet you, Stephanie," she replied with a thick accent. "Carlos tells me you love dessert."

"I do," I said as we walked over to the display case. "It's one of my major food groups."

"Choose anything you want. Everything you like," she said. "Everything is delicious, though they are my recipes so I would think so."

I realized that there were at least two of everything remaining in the display. I had a feeling Ranger had informed his grandmother that we were coming and she had made sure we had some choices. I had to make a conscious effort to not drool as I considered various pastries, donuts, pies, cakes, cookies and candies.

"I'm a little overwhelmed with my options," I said after spending a ridiculous amount of time walking back and forth in front of the display case. "Just give me anything or everything. I can't choose."

Ranger's grandmother told us to go sit down and she would bring the food out. We opted for the counter top stools.

"How could you not tell me that you are heir to a bakery?" I asked him while we waited. "This is probably the best thing about you."

"My grandmother's bakery is the best thing about me?" he asked incredulously. "I really have to get you back in bed. Clearly it's been too long."

I kicked him. "Your grandmother is ten feet away. And thanks for warning me that I was meeting some of your family. I wouldn't have worn the push-up bra. And I probably would have chosen an entirely different outfit."

"I didn't tell you because I wanted you to be relaxed. My grandmother is wonderful woman. She loves you already just because you're willing to put up with me."

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Ranger glanced over my shoulder at the door. "Apparently, you're also meeting my parents tonight."

"What?" I hissed as I spun around on my stool. A Latino couple in their sixties were standing outside. Ranger went over to let them in and greeted both of them. They spoke in rapid Spanish as they made their way to the counter.

"Steph, these are my parents, Lola and Javier," he said. Javier gave me a nod and walked over to the counter to speak to Ranger's grandmother in Spanish. Lola, like her mother, pulled me into a fierce hug. When she released me, I saw that she, Ranger and her mother all shared the same intelligent dark eyes.

"It's about time we got to meet you," Lola said, smacking Ranger on the arm as we all took seats at the counter. Isabela supervised a man in his thirties who brought over two trays laden with various desserts and set out a stack of plates, forks, knives and napkins. She brought over a pot of coffee and five cups.

"Mama, sit down," Lola said. "We can help ourselves. Have you been here all day?"

The man nodded behind Isabela's back, his eyes wide to convey his opinion on the matter.

"I came in at five like I always do for the morning rush. I stopped for a nap in my chair in the office during slow times. I am fine, Lola," she said, waving a dismissive hand as she poured us all coffee.

"Mama allegedly retired fifteen years ago, but you wouldn't know it," Lola informed me as Isabela sat down next to Javier. We were sitting on the corner so we all had a good view of one another. I saw Isabela shake her head and mumble something.

"You can't really talk about someone not being able to stay retired," Ranger informed his mother as we started choosing our desserts. "You and Dad only made it six months before you both found jobs."

"That's because there's only so much sex you can have at our age before you break a hip," Javier said, causing Lola to splutter into her coffee. She smacked him on the back of the head. Ranger laughed and selected a cookie from the tray.

"It's because we haven't had so much unoccupied time together since we were first married," Lola explained, though I thought her cheeks looked a little flushed. "We spent twenty-four years with children under our roof while we both worked full-time jobs. It was hard enough to get used to an empty house, but then we had jobs so we enjoyed our time together, but didn't have to be around each other all the time. Once we retired, we were together too much. We figured we could get part-time jobs or one of us had to die."

"What kind of jobs do you have here?" I asked.

"I'm a nurse," Lola said. "I spent thirty-five years working in labor and delivery at the hospital. Now I work two days a week for an obstetrician. Javier worked in construction since he was a teenager so he got a job at Home Depot. He works two or three days a week, so it helps us have extra money and some space from each other."

Ranger shook his head in mock disappointment.

"I don't think you can talk about anyone not being able to enjoy time off," I said to him. "You can't even take a day off, let alone a vacation. And I'm pretty sure the day you retire will be the day your dead body is carried out of the office after you've died at your desk."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Lola said, giving her son the side-eye.

As we talked and everyone but Ranger kept shoveling in the desserts, I learned more about their family and about Ranger when he was a kid. I learned that both sets of grandparents had left Cuba in the early 1950s, prior to the revolution. I hadn't known that pre-revolution Cuba hadn't been such a great place either, known for prostitution, gambling and the Mafia while many residents lived in horrific poverty. Their respective families had left the country after being told by friends and family who had already come to the United States about the jobs they could get. Isabela had been six months pregnant with Lola when the family settled in Miami, living with cousins for two years until her father could legally obtain work. Javier's family had moved to New York when he was two. Lola and Javier met when she moved to New Jersey to go to college to become a nurse. They had only been dating for two months when she got pregnant with Celia. They got married right away and she had graduated from nursing school a week before she gave birth.

"Somehow, I didn't get my first gray hair until Carlos got arrested at fourteen," Lola said as we finished off the coffee. "Since then I've gained them at an alarming rate, mostly because of him. My hairdresser loves it."

"Do not talk about my Carlos like that," Isabela said as she started cleaning up dishes. "Once he came down here, he got better. He got away from those horrible boys, he played soccer, he was in that National Honor Society and got all A's in school. He has made himself into a good man."

"Hold on," I said, holding up a hand in pause. "You were an A-student and in National Honor Society?"

Ranger sighed. "Thanks, Abuela. You just gave her ammo."

"You had the nerve to call me a band geek for being the baton twirler in the marching band and you were in National Honor Society? Did you have a pocket protector and go to Math bowls?" I asked, grinning uncontrollably at his embarrassment.

"I had a condom in my wallet and smoked in the bathroom," he replied. I heard Isabela gasp and saw Javier smother a grin. Lola made the sign of the cross.

"Ricardo Carlos Manoso!" Isabela scolded. "Do you still smoke?"

"No, Abuela. I quit when I joined the Army," he reassured her. "I never smoked at your house."

"Did you have sex in my house with girls?" she asked, her anger surprising after all these years.

"Do you want the answer to that question?" e responded, his expression totally blank.

Isabela's mouth thinned into a tight line. She piled the dishes onto a tray and walked away without a word.

"Your grandmother always thought were you her perfect little angel in high school," Lola said. "I knew better."

Ranger patted his mother's hand. "Thanks for never underestimating me, Mom."

We left at nine-thirty with promises that Ranger would bring me around again. Isabela seemed to have forgiven Ranger by the time we left. She hugged him tightly, said something to him in Spanish and he kissed her on the cheek in return. We exited through the rear entrance and climbed into the Cayenne.

"I love them," I said as we drove through the city. "Your parents are adorable. They remind me a little of my parents, except I can see your father being a lot like you when he was young."

"They're good people," he said. "I know I've always been a stress on them. I think they feel like they failed me somehow, but really it's the other way around."

That statement made my heart break for him. These people clearly loved him. Did he really take their humor as an indicator of some disappointment? Or was this just his own assessment?

"I don't think they feel that way. I got the impression that they are all proud of you, even if they worry."

Ranger didn't respond and I decided not to push it further. As we got closer to the house, I asked him about the lists of students and needing to cross-reference them for boys who had classes with the girls. He told me to send him the lists and he would run them through a program on his computer. I gave him the Cliff's notes version of my review of the male teacher's files.

"Who stands out the most to you?" He asked as we pulled into the driveway.

"Paul Ester," I replied. "He's the youngest, has a history of inappropriate sexual behavior with mothers, he's an alumnus of MPA and his father is on the board. I think it makes him feel entitled to do whatever the hell he wants. He also had the most contact with Macy and Talia. The only outlier is Amelia, who he taught two years ago."

We walked up to the front door and I pulled out my keys. "Amelia could be an outlier entirely," Ranger replied. "They all could be completely unrelated."

I leaned against the front door without unlocking it and sighed. "I wish I could find out if Macy had any sort of weird notebook in her stuff in Minnesota."

"Try contacting the detective assigned to her case," Ranger suggested. "He would either know or could find out. It would be pertinent to his case."

I stared at Ranger in shock, surprised that I hadn't considered that. I was losing my touch.

"I'll do that tomorrow," I said, consulting my watch. It was too late to call anyone now. "Thanks for a wonderful date. That's definitely one of the best first dates I've had."

Ranger put his hands on my hips and kissed me. "Does it count as two dates since we went to two different restaurants and the second included meeting my parents?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Just one date."

"I should get some sort of date credit for our history together. I've saved your life several times."

"That's just dirty," I said. But he was right. I couldn't completely ignore our history. "Maybe a one date credit."

"That's it?"

"We'll see how the next couple of dates go. If they are as good as this one, then we might be able to make that a two-date credit."

He kissed me again, deeper this time and bit down on my bottom lip as he pulled away. "Night, Babe."

"Goodnight, Carlos."


	20. Chapter 20

**May**

"So, this entire investigation has proved nothing." Dr. Turner said flatly once I had finished summarizing everything.

"Pretty much," I muttered while I resisted the urge to slink down in my chair.

Two months of investigating every boy who had classes with more than one of the three girls along with any of the male teachers they had in common had produced absolutely nothing. I had tracked down the investigator on Macy's missing person case, who had firmly told me that no weird notes with random numbers were found in her belongings in Minnesota. He made it perfectly clear to me that Macy wasn't a priority to him and that I was being a pain in his ass. She was almost eighteen and all indications were that she had run away. Follow-up phone calls had gone unreturned. I had followed the male teachers around town, snooped through their offices after everyone had left for the day, and invaded the privacy of teenage boys. The few red flags that had been raised had quickly been disproven. My confidence that someone at the school had been behind the incidents with all three girls had slowly eroded. I now felt like some insane conspiracy theorist who still wanted to believe the theory even though they had been given all the evidence to prove otherwise.

"Thank you for all the effort you put into this." Dr. Turner stated as she rose from her seat. "I regret that we don't have more answers as to how this happened, but I feel confident that you did your best work."

I shook her proffered hand and left the office feeling disappointed and embarrassed. Had I jumped to conclusions about there being connections? Ranger had never tried to discourage my investigations and had helped me whenever I needed it, but he hadn't indicated that he thought I was on to something. He had been attempting to cover his professional ass and ease my worries at the same time. I was distracted from my wallowing by the sight of a sophomore boy attempting to skirt the cameras and skip class by climbing out a first floor bathroom window. It was satisfying to watch him fall flat on his face as the hem of his right pants leg caught on the sill and even more satisfying to hear the groan he elicited when he saw me standing over him.

Later that night I still had the investigation on my mind.

"Babe, I'm giving you my best work and you don't seem to be enjoying it."

Ranger was on top of me –and inside me–and my brain and body seemed disconnected.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm distracted. I can't believe I did all that work for nothing."

"Are you even close?"

I shook my head and felt Ranger pull out. He unrolled the empty condom and tossed it in the trash before laying down beside me, his head propped up on his elbow.

"You didn't have to stop."

"If you're not into it, neither am I. I'm funny that way," he replied. "You did a good job. Don't doubt yourself. If Dr. Turner hadn't thought there was something to go on, she wouldn't have presented the investigation to the board. And if they hadn't felt the same way, they wouldn't have approved it. I'm sure they are more than relieved that you didn't find anything going on that the school that could impact enrollment and cause lawsuits if it got out."

I rolled over to face him and mirrored his position. "So, it's just a coincidence that two girls got pregnant in the same year, one girl died, one almost died from a botched abortion and one has been missing for over six months?"

"Could be. It's possible that Amelia and Talia are linked, but Macy isn't. Or still it's possible that there is something going on at the school that involved all three girls, but that the person or persons involved are more skilled than we could have anticipated."

I ran my index finger absentmindedly over a scar on Ranger's chest from one of the gunshots inflicted by Edward Scrog. I hated all of the possibilities. It made me worry about another girl at the school getting hurt or going missing. Or having her life upended by a teenage pregnancy.

"So we just have to wait and see if anything else happens?"

"Pretty much. But let others worry about it after tomorrow and don't let it interfere with our trip to Trenton."

After a particularly intense lead had fallen through and I had been beyond frustrated, Ranger had suggested a vacation up to Trenton to see my family. I had intended to go up during the summer while school was out of session, but he thought I needed a break from the place. There were only four more weeks left in the school year, but he had continued to insist on the trip and had personally handled my vacation request.

"I won't," I promised. "I have all kinds of plans for while I'm in town that will keep me busy. I'm seeing Lula and Connie a couple of times, Mary Lou and I have plans, my family will want me over, not to mention all the restaurants I have to visit. You may not see me again until it's time to leave."

Talking about my family and friends greatly improved my mood as I talked about the things we planned to do. Once I had finished talking, Ranger covered my body with his once more, obviously glad that I seemed in a better mood. Once I was really into it, he reached in the bedside table for the condom box.

"The box is empty," he said, holding it up as evidence.

"Crap. And we just wasted that other one because I wasn't paying attention."

Ranger didn't move from his position. "What do you want to do?"

I did some math in my head. "Better not risk it."

Ranger nodded, tossed the box in the trash and moved his head under the covers. "Just because we're out of condoms doesn't mean we can't both end up happy," I said, gasping at the end as his tongue made contact.

The smell of New Jersey air hit me as soon as we stepped off the plane. It brought tears to my eyes from nostalgia as much as pollution. I liked living in Miami, but Jersey would always be home. It was a hot day for mid-May as we walked across the tarmac. I spotted Tank parked in one of the Rangeman SUVs about fifty yards away in the loading area.

It had only been six months since my last visit to Trenton, but there had been plenty of changes in that time. Several condemned buildings had finally been demolished, a new chain hotel was being built on the site of a former factory, Cluck-in-a-Bucket had opened a second Trenton location and the entrance to my old high school was under renovation. Recent competition from Dunkin' Donuts had resulted in the Tasty Pastry going out of business. In the next block a furniture store that had been around for over sixty years was liquidating inventory as a going out of business sale. I noticed a 7-Eleven I had briefly worked at during a summer in college was being converted to a Wawa. It hadn't seemed like Trenton ever changed that much when I had lived there, but perhaps I just hadn't appreciated it because I was in the thick of it.

We pulled into the underground garage at Rangeman half an hour later. Tank and Ranger had been silent the entire trip apart from a brief exchange about a client meeting scheduled for that afternoon. It made me wonder if they were always that quiet when they were alone or if they were more talkative without an audience. Knowing both of them, I leaned more towards this being their norm.

Ella checked in with us a few minutes after we had arrived on the seventh floor. She made sure we had everything we needed and asked if we would be having dinner. It was only two in the afternoon, but I was already starving.

"We're having dinner with my parents tonight," I told her. "But I could eat something now if you have anything left over from lunch."

While Ella went to fetch me a sandwich, I began unpacking my suitcase. Ranger plugged his cell phone into the charger on his bedside table and opened the drawer.

"We need condoms," he said. "I never bought any more after you moved to Miami."

"I'll get them," I replied while I emptied my purse onto the bed. "I need to stop at a store anyway. I think I left my mascara at home."

"Are you opposed to going on the Pill?" Ranger asked as he stripped out of his clothes. "It's more reliable and convenient."

"No, I'm not. In fact, I've made an appointment with my old gynecologist to do just that while we're here. I'm not used to having health insurance that not only pays for the exam, but also covers the medication. I figured I could get started on it up here and then I can find a new doctor in Miami when I need refills in a year."

He emerged from his dressing room ten minutes later dressed in a suit with black shirt and black tie. I nearly had an orgasm watching him walk across the bedroom.

"That'll be good," he replied. "I really hate condoms."

After polishing off a turkey sandwich and an apple, I headed to the pharmacy near the office to pick up our supplies. I spent ten seconds in the condom aisle, not wanting to be seen by anyone I might know and grabbed Ranger's preferred brand. I spent ten minutes in the cosmetics aisle, debating between mascaras. Did I want fuller lashes or longer ones? Clear, black, brown, or navy? I was still in the cosmetics aisle when my cell phone rang. It was the generic ringtone that told me the caller wasn't in my contacts list.

"Stephanie Plum?" The caller asked. My heart leapt in my throat as I recognized the deep voice and northern Midwestern accent that belonged to Detective Andy Johansen. He was the detective assigned to Macy's case.

"Yes, it is, Detective. Did you find Macy?"

"No, we haven't. But when you called me back in March, you said that you were looking into issues with two other girls at the school Macy attended. You said those two had been pregnant. Do you mind telling me what happened with them?"

I felt my stomach lurch. "One girl killed herself and the other was severely injured after attempting her own abortion."

I thought I heard him typing on a keyboard in the background. "When did these incidents occur?"

"The first girl died in early January. She was visiting her family in Israel when it happened. And the other girl was taken to the hospital shortly before I called you in March because she developed an infection and that was when they discovered she had performed her own abortion. She's in a rehabilitation center in Miami now because she suffered brain damage. What's going on?"

More typing in the background. I was about to ask him again what was going on when he finally spoke. "Macy's parents decided to finally sort through her belongings yesterday. They hadn't touched anything except for allowing us to look through it for hints of where she might have gone. They didn't want her to be angry with them when she came back. Her mother discovered a pregnancy test hidden in the bottom lining of her purse. It was one of the tests that shows one line for not pregnant and two lines for pregnant. This test showed two clear lines. We don't know when she would have taken it, but it reminded me of your call. Because she left without a note or signs of having taken anything with her, her parents are worried she might be part of some human trafficking operation for black market adoptions and I believe they aren't misguided in that concern. I've began contact with the FBI and my department's own human trafficking unit to see if we can find any leads there. We've also got a call into the manufacturer of the test to see if there is any way to tell when she might have purchased or used it."

Tears stung my eyes at the idea of Macy being held by some group of people who only wanted her to take her baby away from her. And my mind automatically went back to Talia and Amelia. Had they known or suspected something like that? Were the three of them connected after all?

"Have you been in touch with law enforcement in Miami?" I asked. "She probably got pregnant there. And the other girls would have gotten pregnant there as well. Could there be a connection?"

"I was planning to contact the Miami PD next and I know the FBI is contacting their field office there to follow up on the same thing. I'm glad you called, Ms. Plum. I don't know if this will lead anywhere, but at least it's an avenue to explore that I may not have considered otherwise. One pregnant teenager running away from home isn't a new thing. But three pregnant teenagers at the same prestigious school all having bad things happen to them in less than six months raises some red flags. I'll be in touch if I need any more information," he said.

I thanked him and hung up the phone. My hand shook as I put the phone back in my purse, my mascara needs all but forgotten. I grabbed one directly in front of me and took my items to the checkout. I didn't feel embarrassed as I handed the mascara and condoms over to a grandmotherly woman at the checkout counter. Maybe I hadn't been crazy after all. Macy was pregnant and if there wasn't a connection between her, Talia and Amelia then I would quit working at Rangeman and go back to selling hot dogs on the beach. I was filled with both dread and excited as I hurried to my car and sent Ranger a text message.

 _ **The detective in charge of Macy's case just called. Her mother found a positive pregnancy test hidden in the lining of her purse. They are looking at black market adoption rings to rule out that she may have been taken by one, either against her will or was lured. This makes me think there was a connection between all three girls after all.**_

I was pulling up in front of Connie's house behind Lula's Firebird when he replied.

 **Call Dr. Turner and let her know. We can do more follow up on our own later.**

I quickly called Dr. Turner and gave her an update. Ranger had been right that she had been relieved to think nothing was happening at her school.

Lula and Connie were impatiently waiting for me to finish my call, beckoning me to come inside. I held up a finger to tell them I'd been just a minute.

"I hate to hear that, not only because it means there is still a possibility that someone on campus is involved, but to think of these girls being targeted makes me sick," she said. "I'm going to talk to Paul. I don't know what we can do to help keep the girls on campus any safer than we already do, but I want to make sure we've explored every avenue."

I disconnected the call and hurried inside to my friends. Connie's home was as immaculate as ever. At least some things in Trenton hadn't changed.

"What the hell was so important that you had to call about it before you came in here?" Lula demanded. "We were waitin' forever on you."

I had told them both about the girls at the school and my investigation, but gave them the latest update. They both agreed it seemed like too much of a coincidence that all three girls got pregnant and that something had happened to all three to take them away from the school.

"You think it's a teacher doin' the nasty with girls?" Lula asked. "Or they are gettin' knocked up on their own and goin' to someone they think will help them?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. But it makes me think there is some connection at the school or maybe with one of the places they do community service. I'm going to be checking it out more. I don't know how far along Macy might be at this point. If she found out as soon as she missed a period, she would have been maybe four or five weeks, but there's no way to show when she took the test at this point. If she took it not long after school started, she could be about to give birth. If she didn't take it until she went home at Thanksgiving, that would mean she may have two or three more months."

I continued to hang out with them until a quarter to six, when Ranger sent a text that he was on his way to my parents' house. It was code for _don't make me go in there alone._ I said goodbye to Lula and Connie, we confirmed our plans for the weekend and I hurried out to the Rangeman car I was driving. Ranger was idling at the curb when I pulled into the driveway. My grandmother and mother were waiting on the porch, watching Ranger expectantly. I could see that he had his phone up to his ear and was talking on it. He disconnected as soon as he saw me pull up. I wondered if he had really been talking to anyone, or just looking for an excuse to ignore my family until I arrived.

I hugged my mother and grandmother and we followed them inside. My father was planted in his recliner and gave us both a vague wave. I doubted he would have noticed we were there had we not walked in front of the television.

"Frank, dinner is ready. Turn that off!" my mother hissed as she headed to the dining room.

My family asked a thousand questions about my job and Miami that I had already answered at least twice. I showed them photos of the house on my phone and I was brought up to speed on the latest Burg gossip while we ate lasagna. My stomach wasn't happy with the lasagna and I pushed it around on my plate while trying to keep my gag reflex under control. I had been feeling nauseous ever since learning about Macy's pregnancy and considering the possibility that she was being held somewhere until she gave birth.

"Are you okay? You aren't eating," my mother commented. "Are you pregnant? Is that why you're here? I thought you looked bigger."

"No!" I said, insulted and immediately looked down to see if I had gained weight. "I just don't feel well. I got some disturbing news about a missing girl at the school and it makes me sick to think about it."

I kept the visit down to an hour, promised to stop by the next day and was nearly dragged out of the house by Ranger.

"Have I gained weight?" I asked. "And be honest, I won't get mad."

Ranger stopped and gave me a once over. "Maybe a few pounds since you moved to Miami. But it looks good on you. And no, you don't look pregnant."

I blew out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I don't know why that is always her first assumption. That, and cancer."

"Mothers," he replied. That said it all.

If my mother thought I looked like I had gained weight since moving to Miami, she was certainly going to think so after I'd spent a week in Trenton. With the exception of dinner one night at Rangeman, I had eaten every meal over our first four days in Trenton at my favorite restaurants. I avoided restaurant food the day of my gynecologist appointment. I was already dreading the scales, why make it any worse.

I was shown to an exam room after waiting in the lobby for almost an hour. I had given a urine sample for a pregnancy test to rule out that I was pregnant before being given birth control and had stepped on the scale to find that I had put on ten pounds. Even though I was depressed about the ten pounds, I was pleasantly surprised to find that they had upgraded their wardrobe. For every check-up since I was eighteen, I had been given what amounted to tissue paper to cover my body with while I waited for the doctor. Now they handed out what looked like old hospital gowns. I would take it, especially since it felt like they kept the air conditioning on Arctic blast.

I undressed, wrapped myself in the gown, and scrolled through Facebook on my phone while I waited. A story on one of the local Miami news channels had caught my eye. A woman from Miami had been found dead in rural Tennessee ten years after she had gone missing while on vacation in Orlando. Even more disturbing was the fact that an autopsy showed she had been pregnant multiple times in those ten years with at least two births having been via C-section. She had been strangled shortly after giving birth for a final time and thrown down a ravine. The picture on the article had shown a smiling young woman in her twenties. It made me think back to Macy and the idea of black market adoption. Had this poor woman been part of something like that?

I jumped when the door to the exam room opened and my gynecologist walked in. Dr. Fuschetto was a kind woman in her fifties who had gone to school with my mother. She was reading from an iPad when she walked in.

"Hello, Stephanie," she said. "I heard you had moved to Florida."

"I did. I just don't have a new doctor down there and I figured if I was going to be up here I would come see you." I said, putting my phone away.

I assumed the position in the stirrups as she began the unpleasant task while asking me about my new job. I told her about my position and about Ranger, grateful when she told me I could sit up a few minutes later. She took off her gloves, washed her hands and listened to me while updating information on her iPad. A nurse came in a few minutes later and handed her a piece of paper.

"Stephanie, I have some news," she said after reading it. "You're already pregnant."

When Ranger found me hours later, I was sitting on the bed in his apartment, my arms wrapped around me while I rocked back and forth.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately sensing my distress.

"I can't believe it," I said quietly. "This isn't happening."

"What isn't happening?"

I blew out a breath, grateful that vomit didn't come out with it. I'd spent a good thirty minutes puking my guts out after I had gotten back. Not because of morning sickness, but because of nerves.

"I'm pregnant," I whispered. "I don't know how. We always used a condom. But I'm pregnant."

Ranger's face was unreadable as he processed the information, but after a couple of heartbeats, he sat down on the bed and pulled me into him.

"It's okay, Babe."

"It isn't okay," I said. "We just got together. It's only been a couple of months. We aren't ready for this."

"We have a few months to get ready for it then," he said calmly. "I'm guessing you can't be that far along."

"I haven't even missed my period yet. I still have a couple of days. But their tests are really sensitive. They drew some blood for a test that is even more sensitive. They said they'll probably have the results tomorrow, but the doctor said the urine tests she uses are rarely wrong. She said I would be due in late January."

We stayed like that for a while, neither of us speaking while we contemplated parenthood. The idea of becoming a parent scared the shit out of me to begin with, plus the memory of being pregnant in the past and the miscarriage and the entire fallout from that only added to the anxiety. And while things with Ranger were really great, we were just in the beginning of our serious relationship. And now we were going to be adding a child into the mix before we would have been together a year.

"We could have already been through this once," he said, seeming to read my mind. "We'll figure this out together. I may have one child already, but the entire parenting process is still foreign to me. Neither of us is going anywhere."

"I'm glad one of us is confident about this," I said.

The sound of Ella bringing in dinner distracted us and we headed to the kitchen for dinner. I didn't speak as we set the table and served ourselves. I had no appetite for anything but sobbing. Not that the idea of children with Ranger was undesirable. If I were to have children with anyone, I would want it to be him. But I imagined us planning a pregnancy, having those moments where we would lie in bed together afterwards and wonder if we had just made a baby. The anxious minutes waiting on a pregnancy test while we sat on the edge of the bathtub. But so far we weren't managing planned pregnancies.

"Dwelling on it won't change it." Ranger said as I filled my plate. "Whether we're having a baby now or in a couple of years doesn't make a big difference. We've known each other for a while now. Our level of involvement is simply more committed than it ever has been. We're adults in our thirties with thriving careers. We are in better places in our lives to have a child than either of us has ever been."

I felt some of the anxiety ease from my chest. "I know you're right. I think I just need a couple of days to let it all sink in."

He reached over and lifted my hand to his lips. I opened the wine cooler and pulled out a bottle of red. I was searching for the corkscrew when Ranger replaced the bottle in the cooler and instead handed me a bottle of water.

"You can't drink that anymore," he reminded me. I heaved an enormous sigh and laid my head down on the counter.

"I really need a glass of wine right now and I can't even have it. And I forgot about that. I'm going to be a horrible mother."

Ranger put his hands on my hips and guided me towards the dining room. "You're going to be a very good mother. And you can start by eating your dinner."

My heard my cell phone ring in the bedroom as I finished my meal. I hurried into the bedroom to catch the call before it went to voicemail. It was Detective Johansen.

"I wanted to give you an update. We got information back from the manufacturer of the pregnancy test found in Macy's belongings. They looked at the lot number and pulled up information. It was produced at a plant in Canada and distributed across the Midwest in late October. he said. He sounded tired. "Based on that information, we are assuming that Macy didn't buy the test until she came home at Thanksgiving and that she must have suspected she was pregnant fairly early on. Estimates are that she could be anywhere between thirty and thirty-five weeks pregnant. She would be estimated to deliver between late June and early August."

I thought about a pregnant Macy being out there all alone, scared and seventeen and placed a hand on my flat-for-now-belly. I may not have planned this, but I was in a far better situation than her.

"Thanks for telling me. It may help figure out who she was hanging out with at that time. They may have answers about the potential father. I'll let you know if I find out anything."

I relayed the information to Ranger, both grateful for the distraction and guilty that I was using Macy's misfortunate to take attention off my own anxiety. I also told him about the story I had read on the Miami news page while waiting for the doctor earlier that day.

"He's giving you a lot of information for someone who dismissed you two months ago. Go with it and see if you can learn anything else. And look into whether there have been any similar cases in the area as the dead woman. It could point to human trafficking and black market adoptions."

I intended to do just that. I owed it to Macy, Talia, and Amelia to figure out what was going on and possibly prevent it happening again.


	21. Chapter 21

Ranger's car was parked in the driveway when I pulled in shortly after six. I was surprised to see him there, not only because I had been gone less than ten minutes to make a food run, but because I hadn't been expecting him back for a couple of days. He had been in Atlanta since the previous morning dealing with an emergency. I found him sitting at the kitchen counter reading through the literature I'd been given at my obstetrics intake earlier that afternoon.

"Are you fascinated by human reproduction?" I asked when he didn't look up from a pamphlet called _Tips for Your First Trimester_ as I walked through the door _._

"Only when my DNA is involved," he replied. I took a seat on the stool next to him and unwrapped my sandwich while he finished reading.

"I wasn't expecting you back tonight, so I didn't cook anything. Do you want half of my sandwich?"

He shook his head before leaning over to kiss my jawline. "You eat it. I'll find something else. How are you feeling?"

"My breasts are now so sore I can't wear a bra." I replied, making a circle motion towards my chest with one hand. "I wore a jacket over my shirt to work because I couldn't handle twelve hours of that pain. I was burning up all day, but I'm hoping no one noticed."

Ranger got up from the counter and headed towards the refrigerator. "You went to work with a bunch of men at a school with almost five-hundred teenage boys without wearing a bra. Every one of them would have known it, even with the jacket on," he said.

I groaned and took an aggressive bite of my sandwich. In the two weeks since finding out that I was pregnant I had gone from having no symptoms to all kinds of symptoms. I had spent every lunch hour of the past three work days taking a nap because I was exhausted. I would come home from work and sleep for another hour before dinner and had been in bed by eight every night of the last week. I was also constantly hungry and it seemed like I became dizzy if I didn't eat something every two hours. I had to pee constantly, cried at nothing and now I was dealing with breasts so sore that even walking too vigorously made me wince. This pregnancy was physically more difficult than the first one, even though I wasn't nearly as stressed. My initial shock and fear had subsided after a few days and now there was just a bunch of anxiety left in its place.

I took a long drag from the coffee I had gotten along with the sandwich. Caffeine helped take the edge off the fatigue and was the only thing that kept me upright most days. "How is everything in Atlanta?"

"Fine. The branch manager overreacted to the situation, which is preferable to an actual security breach. But I let him know that I was annoyed," Ranger said as he put a pan of water on the stove. He had pulled out what looked like the ingredients for a cobb salad. I was amazed that there had been so many vegetables in my refrigerator. I suspected he had brought them with him.

"How many cups of coffee have you had today?" he asked unexpectedly as he began to dice a tomato.

"Huh?" I said, glancing at the cup in my hand as though I wasn't entirely sure what he meant. "I had two cups before I left the house, one after my lunch break, and then this one. Why?"

"That pamphlet says you shouldn't have more than 150mg of caffeine each day. Which is about as much in that cup alone," he stated, nodding his head towards the cup. I held it protectively to my chest.

"But it keeps me awake. What will I do?"

"Drink water," Ranger said. "Staying hydrated helps stave off fatigue. Exercise, eat healthy food instead of carbs…."

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said. I took one last gulp and pushed it away. Ranger took it, poured it down the drain, and handed me a bottle of water.

I finished my sandwich and washed it down with my caffeine-free water while I watched Ranger work on his salad. Once eggs were hardboiled, he put them in the salad along with some ham. He put a small amount of dressing in a small dish on the side. What did I see in this man?

I sorted through some of the other pamphlets that I had been given, which covered topics such as nutrition and exercise, sex during pregnancy and fetal development. I picked out the one labeled _Sex During Pregnancy._

"I read that one first," Ranger said through a bite of salad.

"Of course, you did," I said. "Anything else going to ruin my day?"

"No, as long as your doctor doesn't say otherwise."

We hadn't had sex since I had learned I was pregnant. At first, it was just because I was too shocked to do much of anything else. Lately it had been because I was often asleep before Ranger even came over.

"Since you're here early, we might actually be able to do it tonight." I told him. "I've only known you were here the last few nights because the sheets were rumpled on the other side of the bed. Well, I assumed it was you. It could have been my other boyfriend."

"Anyone I know?" Ranger asked.

I pulled out my phone and brought up a picture I had taken recently. "Maybe. Here's his truck."

Ranger glanced over at the picture and nearly choked on his food as he started laughing. On my way to work that morning I had been behind a red truck with oversized wheels that had towered over my car. It was ostentatious enough, but the large testicles hanging from below the license plate had been the icing on the cake. I had taken a picture of it, knowing that he would appreciate it.

"I don't think you'd want what he has to offer, Babe. A truck that size plus a pair of balls on the back likely means he has a micro-penis," he said. "Besides, he'd probably consider you used goods since you're already pregnant."

I let out a dejected sigh. "That's really unfortunate. You know how much I like a truck with its own balls."

Ranger got up and put his dishes in the sink. "If you want to see some balls, I'll gladly show you mine. They may not be as big as the truck's, but I think they're decent."

I followed him to the bedroom and we started pulling at each other's clothes. He laid me down on the bed and pushed my shirt up my body, carefully avoiding my breasts. Clearly the man was a keeper, food choices notwithstanding. He removed my pants and got to work exploring the rest of my body with his hands and mouth. I closed my eyes as his mouth moved along the inside of my thigh. That felt really good.

When I opened my eyes, I was still on my back and still wearing my underwear. The quilt had been pulled over me and Ranger was sitting up in bed next to me, reading something on his iPad.

"What happened?" I asked.

"You fell asleep before I could finish undressing you."

I smacked my hand over my eyes. "Crap. I'm sorry, Carlos. What you were doing felt so good that I closed my eyes. I didn't know I was going to fall asleep," I said. I sat up and leaned into him.

He put an arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the top of the head. "I can forgive you, since it isn't entirely your fault and I contributed to your current condition."

"Yeah, you got me pregnant, then took away my coffee. I'm feeling pretty good now, if you're still interested."

He put his iPad on the bedside table and pulled me into his lap, my legs straddling his hips. "You should be on top. You'll be less likely to fall asleep that way."

My reward for staying awake for the entire thing was two orgasms. Am I a lucky girl or what?

"Are you nervous? About the baby, I mean," I asked as we laid together afterwards.

"No."

"Really?" I asked. I sat up in bed to look at him. "Because you already have Julie?"

"I'm not nervous because I know we're both new at this," he replied. "We'll be learning how to do this together. I never did more than hold Julie when she was a baby. I've never been a father to her, not in any real sense. I'm about one-step up from a sperm donor because I pay child support." He kissed the back of my hand. "You're going to be good at this, Babe."

"I'll probably forget about homework every night and send it to school with Ding-dongs for lunch."

"How about you oversee helping our child with the social things, like learning to make friends and taking it to soccer practice and doing the small talk with other parents and I'll make sure it eats its vegetables and doesn't flunk out of school," he suggested.

"That sounds like a plan, but we won't have to do that stuff for a while. What about all the baby stuff? Like changing diapers and baths and feeding it. Are you going to help with that stuff?"

Ranger gave me a confused look. "Why wouldn't I?"

I shrugged. "It just doesn't seem like you. Dirty diapers and puking babies don't exactly line up with the macho vibe you have going on."

Ranger watched me for a few seconds and his expression was so tender it made my throat tighten. "That's me on the job, Babe. You see the rest of me here. I will help with our child in every way. I will feed it, change diapers, put it to sleep, stay up with it at night, and play with it. What I can't figure out on my own, I'll learn from you. I won't leave it all to you."

I believed him, and just hearing him say those things made me love him more.

"It's probably time I start teaching you something and not the other way around. You've taught me so much and I've taught you nothing except how much of a disaster one human can be."

"That's not true. You've taught me plenty."

I gave him an incredulous look. "Like what?"

He pulled me in closer to his body so that his lips skimmed my ear when he spoke. "I've learned from you that it's possible to avoid getting shot by falling asleep on the job and not the other way around," he began. I tried to suppress my laugh. Tank had gotten shot instead because he had been awake and sitting up instead of sprawled on the floor. "I learned that you shouldn't rub your eyes when you're wearing fake eyelashes."

"Something that has saved you several times, I'm sure." I said, tossing in an eye roll for good measure.

"You have no idea. And most importantly, I've learned that the vulnerability that comes with being in love and allowing a relationship to develop is not a bad thing. It's actually a really good thing."

I waved a hand in front of my face to keep the tears at bay. "That is so sweet. And so sappy. What happened to the badass I met four years ago? Is it too late to trade you in?"

He gave me a light pinch on the thigh as he pulled me on top of him once more.

"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried," he whispered as he captured my mouth with his.

I hadn't been giving the investigation into the girls from MPA as much attention since finding out about the baby, but as my fatigue started to ease up in the beginning of June, I found myself able to focus better. School was in its final week, so I had decided to start over from the beginning and take a fresh look at everything. I would have the summer to keep doing my research in the hope of finding Macy as quickly as possible. Especially if she was due to give birth. My hope was that she was still alive and that she hadn't been killed and thrown down a ravine like the missing woman I had read about at the doctor's office.

I tried to capitalize on my remaining time at the school by double checking that I had as much information as I could possibly obtain before being reassigned for the summer. Dr. Turner was thankful for my continued efforts, especially given the news that Macy was also pregnant. She and the board of directors were already discussing new supervision protocols for all students to protect them from their own poor choices in the upcoming school year. I decided that I wanted to focus away from campus since my investigation had always hit dead ends where teachers and students had been concerned and instead look more closely at the various venues where the girls had done community service work and the people they had worked with in those places.

"It's a great day to be alive," Reyes said as he came into the conference room during the final ST meeting of the school year. "Ahmed Fahed is going to be out of our lives forever in less than sixty hours."

There was a hearty round of applause to that proclamation.

"Don't get too excited," Paul said as he walked in with a coffee in one hand and his iPad in the other. "I have summer assignments to give out."

"Nothing can kill my buzz this week." Reyes replied, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "Bring it."

Paul took his seat and started scrolling through his iPad. "Torres and Andersen, you'll be doing patrol on afternoons for the downtown Miami commercial accounts. Estes and Walker, you'll be floating in residential, covering for vacations. Reynolds, your request to work out of Atlanta for the summer has been approved. You report for duty on Monday. Reyes, you're doing personal protection jobs. Plum, you'll be doing summer duty here on campus."

"What will I be doing here over the summer?" I asked Paul once our meeting was over. "There won't be any students on campus."

"Patrol and General keep a presence here during the summer. We use the time to do checks on systems, run practice drills, and meet with the administration to make plans for the next school year. The campus is also used for large meetings, so we still have to keep an eye on things," Paul glanced behind me to be sure the room was clear. "Ranger told me that you're pregnant. He said you'll need to switch to one of the other positions sometime in the fall. This will give you the opportunity to learn both roles. Congrats, by the way."

I felt the urge to blush, but kept it down. "Thanks," I said and headed back out to work. Ranger and I had agreed that we weren't telling anyone about the baby until I had my first ultrasound, so I wasn't happy that he told Paul without telling me. I was going to let him know how unhappy I was when I got the chance.

I spent the rest of the day frustrated with Ranger, my anger coming to a slow boil as I watched the students eat their lunch. Seriously, we hadn't even told our families and he was off telling my direct supervisor without consulting me. It was my body. And who said I had to change positions? I skipped my lunch hour to help with a group of girls who were falling apart at the thought of having to leave each other. By the time I had helped get them moving on to their final exams and rounded up a group of sixth grade boys who were trying to be badasses and skip class, I wasn't feeling so great. I had skipped lunch and that was a no-no. I was working my way back to the security building when I felt the world start to darken around me and the pain of my head hitting the floor.

"Should I call an ambulance?"

A man's voice was penetrating the fog as I opened my eyes. I could tell three blurry figures were kneeling around me and there were two larger figures standing behind them.

"No, I don't need ," I tried to say, struggling to sit up. "No ambulance. I'm fine, really. I just need to eat."

"Are you diabetic?" one of the kneeling people asked. I realized it was one of the nurses.

"No, I'm not diabetic." I replied, working on standing and feeling my head spin. "I'm fine. I just need to eat my lunch."

"You could have thyroid issues," supplied Mr. Hatch, who had been kneeling next to the nurse. The third kneeling figure had been Dr. Hugo, who held me under one arm as I stood.

"I don't have thyroid issues," I assured him. "Really, I'm fine. I'm sorry I worried you."

"I really think you need to get checked out," continued the nurse. "Fainting can be a symptom of an underlying condition."

"I know the condition that made me faint." I snapped, irritated and embarrassed by the attention. "It's because I'm pregnant. Okay? So please let me go eat my lunch and I'll be just fine."

I couldn't be mad at Ranger any more since I had just announced to five people that I was pregnant.

"Oh, well congratulations," the nurse said with a wide smile. "Do try to take better care of yourself and don't skip lunch. Okay? And if you need something, come to me."

I received congratulations from Dr. Hugo and Mr. Hatch, assured Reyes and Torres that I was fine, and made my way to the security office, knowing that my every move was being monitored on camera. When I walked into the office, I had all eyes on me. Which included Ranger's eyes. I could see him in Paul's office. I stifled a groan.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I let him in the hall.

"I was in the area when Paul called me to say you had passed out," he said, nudging me in the direction of the kitchen. "Are you okay?"

"Embarrassed, but other than that I'll be fine once I eat," I said. I opened the refrigerator and pulled out my lunch bag. "I was pissed off because you told Paul I was pregnant, but then I just told the people fussing over me because they were trying to give me diabetes and thyroid problems and wanting to send me to the hospital."

"I had to tell Paul because we were planning out next year's team and I had to give him notice that you'll have to go on modified duty after a while. He was told not to tell anyone."

"It doesn't matter now," I muttered as I stabbed salad with my fork.

"You need to be checked out in case of a concussion." Ranger said, pushing the hair aside on the left side of my face. "Paul said you hit your head." He ran a finger over one spot that made me flinch. "You're going to have a knot there."

"I'm fine," I said, stressing each word. "Please stop."

Ranger took a seat next to me at the small table. "Right now, I'm asking you as your boyfriend and the father of your child to go to the hospital and make sure you don't have a concussion. If you refuse, I'll force you to go as your employer. It's your call."

I let out a huff of exasperation and glared at him, but I knew by his expression he meant just what he said. We held each other's gaze for at least a minute before he said the thing that would always win me over.

"Babe, please."

Shit.

"I told you I didn't have a concussion." I muttered as Ranger and I walked out of the emergency room four hours later. "We just wasted four hours for nothing."

"It wasn't for nothing. It was for my peace of mind," he replied, undeterred by my mood. "And for the HR manager. And we got to know that the baby is fine."

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the passenger seat of his Cayenne. I didn't say anything as we went back to the house. I knew I was being ridiculous. I had been subjected to both an ultrasound and a head CT scan. Normally, the ultrasound would have been a pleasant thing, except they didn't do the one over my abdomen like you see in the movies. Instead, a probe the size of a rocket had been shoved up inside me. I was told it was because I wasn't far enough along for the normal ultrasound machine to get the most accurate assessment. We were able to see the little speck of something that the technician said was our baby and to hear the rapid little heartbeat that said things were fine. The sound had brought a tear to my eye and had made me realize why I hadn't wanted to go to the emergency room. I had been terrified of being told that the baby didn't have a heartbeat and that it would have been my fault all over again. As we pulled into the neighborhood, I told Ranger as much.

"I know," he said. He pulled into the driveway and parked behind my car, which had been brought home by some Rangeman employee. "And it was part of why I wanted you go. I knew you were afraid of losing this baby. It was around this point the last time, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "Thanks for guilting me into going. I do feel better, even if I'm still embarrassed."

"Because of the fainting or the fact that a piece of machinery wearing a condom got further with you today than I have since the night before last?"

I laughed as we walked up to the house. "A little of both, I think." I unlocked the front door and turned off the alarm. "You don't have to stay. I'm fine, remember?"

"I know that. Am I not allowed to stay here tonight?"

I shrugged. "I figured you might like to stay at your apartment for a change. You've been here almost every night since we got back from Trenton, except if you've been out of town or working overnight."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, and I detected a slight chill to his voice.

"No," I said quickly. "I just don't want you to feel obligated to stay with me to watch over me."

He took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him. "We're having a baby in a few months. Don't you think it would work out better if we lived in the same place?"

"Obviously. I just didn't want to rush it. You're used to having your own space. I figured you would want to enjoy that as much as you can before the baby gets here."

"I bought this place because I wanted us to live here together. I've wanted to live with you for a while now. I'm ready, if you are."

We spent that weekend moving Ranger's belongings into _our_ house. He hadn't allowed me to lift any of the boxes, citing the weight restriction given by the doctor and my pregnancy pamphlets, though I had been allowed to carry in his clothes from the car.

"There is no way you had this much stuff in your apartment," I commented as boxes were piled into one of the empty bedrooms.

"They were in the apartment the entire time you were," he said as he brought in the last box. "You just didn't find them."

I tried to give him my most innocent look. "What? It's not like I went through your stuff."

"Babe."

We ordered pizza and sat on the floor in the spare bedroom and sorted through boxes. Some were family pictures and memorabilia that I found both adorable and surprising. I had never seen any indication that Ranger ever held on to sentimental items, but I just hadn't looked hard enough. I was especially surprised to find a box with my name on it.

"Did you buy me presents?" I asked as I cut through the packing tape with a knife.

Ranger leaned against the wall, his long, black-clad legs stretched out in front of him. "Not exactly. It's more of catch-all."

Inside I found an assortment of items I had used over the years in my work with Ranger. One item that stood out was a GPS-enabled watch with a built-in panic button that he had given me after a particular frustrating near-miss with a lunatic. I promptly put it on my wrist.

"This is going to be our labor alarm," I said, showing off my left wrist. "When I go into labor, I'll press the panic button and tell you how much I hate you for getting me pregnant while you hurry to my location."

He nodded his approval. "I'd rather it be used for that than because you have a psychopath after you."

I also found several fake passports with corresponding ID cards and birth certificates with various aliases from other states or countries. Cristina Sabatine from Italy, Lucy Pardo from Canada, Jennifer Pierce from the UK, Marie Devereaux from France, Melina Cruz from Brazil, and Valerie Mazur from Seattle.

"What's this?" I asked, holding up the stack of passports.

"Ways out of the country, if you need them. I'm hoping we won't ever need them, but I would rather not get rid of them. Just to be safe. They all correspond to aliases of mine, so we could leave the country together as a couple if needed."

I took a moment to let that sink in and decided it didn't need any further discussion. I knew Ranger had always looked out for me, but this gave even more depth to his protection and love. I continued looking through the box and found the wedding rings we had worn in Hawaii, when we had pretended to be Mr. and Mrs. Carlos Manoso while hunting an FTA. It made me think about marriage, and if it was something I wanted to do sooner rather than later. There was no sense in having the discussion now. He had just moved in. Just because we were having a baby and now living together didn't mean we had to rush the marriage discussion.

While we either unloaded boxes and put the items in their appropriate places or marked them for storage in the attic I brought Ranger up to speed on the new turn I was planning to take with the investigation into the MPA girls.

"Have you tried talking to the teachers?" he asked as he helped me change the sheets on the bed.

"Wouldn't they get suspicious? Besides, school ended yesterday. They'll be gone for the summer."

"The teachers are required to work until Wednesday. And they aren't going to see you as a problem if you come at it from the angle of covering corporate ass, wanting to make sure this kind of stuff doesn't happen again and put Rangeman at risk of losing its contract. The only people who know what you're really doing are the two of us and Dr. Turner. The teachers see you as a security guard, not as an investigative threat."

"That's true. And I'm good at lying."

"It's one of your best skills," Ranger confirmed. "Except with me because I know your tells."

I was surprised when Ranger carried the dirty sheets to the washing machine and started a load of laundry. He not only adjusted the dials, but added detergent and fabric softener. Sometimes I forgot that he had taken care of himself before he had a housekeeper.

"How long has it been since you've lived with a woman?" I asked.

"How long has it been since you stayed with me for some reason?"

"Other than me, wiseass."

"Whenever I moved out of my grandmother's house after high school. But I'm guessing that's not exactly what you were asking," he said, taking note of my stunned expression.

"You've never lived with a girlfriend? I know you've been doing the lone wolf thing for a long time, but I thought you surely must have had serious relationships in the past that made you realize you needed your own space."

"I've had serious relationships. They just never progressed to the living together stage."

"So, I'm your first?" I placed my hand over my heart and let out an exaggerated gasp. "I'm honored! I didn't think there was anything left to be a first with you."

He put an arm around my waist. "There aren't too many things left, but that's one of them. I could probably come up with a few other things if you enjoy it so much."

I elbowed him in the ribs and hurried off to the other room before he came up with any crazy ideas. Men were pigs, and Carlos Manoso wasn't an exception.


	22. Chapter 22

_**September**_

"What's with all the sex lately?" I asked Ranger after a particularly enthusiastic romp in the living room one evening. "Have you developed a sex addiction or something? I'm used to you trying to get in my pants as often as you can, but this is setting records."

"Are you complaining?" He ran his hands up my sides and over my swollen breasts.

"Not at all. Just curious. I figured things would slow down in that department as I got bigger, not pick up."

I was currently twenty-two weeks pregnant and no longer able to conceal it from anyone. I was currently at a stage where I wasn't big enough for maternity clothes, but too big for my regular ones. I was utilizing pants with elastic waistbands and stretchy bands that covered the fact that my pre-pregnancy pants were unbuttoned as I walked around Miami. I was up a cup-size in the bra department, which wasn't a bad thing in my book.

"Babe, you're sexier now than you've ever been," he said. I looked down at my body. I wasn't feeling particularly sexy these days.

"It's the bigger boobs, isn't it?"

"I'm enjoying them, but it's everything," he replied while giving me a once over. "I like that you're having my child and the way it's changing your body."

I felt incredibly self-conscious as he said that, but also very loved. I was disturbed when Morelli inadvertently crossed my mind in that moment. Why? As I snuggled into Ranger's arms as we attempted to lay together on the sofa, I realized it was because Morelli would have never been this supportive. He would have been turned off by the extra pounds and the way my belly felt rubbing against his during sex, especially when the baby took the opportunity to kick. He would have turned it into the perfect excuse to only have doggy-style sex with the lights off until the baby was born.

We eventually gave up on trying to lay together on the sofa and moved to our bed. I fell asleep after being treated to another orgasm and woke up an hour later to the feeling of Ranger gently rubbing my belly while he watched a soccer game broadcast in Spanish on the bedroom television.

"How are you feeling about having a girl?" I asked, referring to the ultrasound I had two weeks earlier where we had learned the sex of our baby. We had been busy getting ready for the transition back into my schedule at the school and he had spent an entire week at his office in Boston so we hadn't had much time to talk.

He shrugged, not taking his eyes off the television. "Fine. It was either going to be a girl or a boy. It wasn't like there were too many options to surprise us."

"I was hoping for a boy," I admitted. "Raising a girl scares me."

That earned me a smile. "Babe, you know _you're_ a girl, right?

"Exactly. I know what it's like to be a girl and do all the sneaky shit that you don't want your mother to know about."

"Like not telling her you're pregnant until eight weeks before the baby is due?"

I gave Ranger a dirty look. "Seriously? Are we going there again? I thought we agreed on this."

"I didn't agree to anything. You told me that we weren't telling our families until we see them at Thanksgiving and I'm expected to go along with it if I wish to keep breathing."

Back in June, I had read a story online about a couple who had decided not to tell their families that they were pregnant and just surprised them with the newborn baby at Christmas a few weeks after it was born. I thought it sounded amazing because I didn't want six months of unsolicited advice from my mother. But I never imagined I could do anything like that because Ranger's parents would obviously find out beforehand. I knew it wouldn't be fair for them to know and not my family. Lola and Javier had gone up to Newark in June to visit with their other children and grandchildren until the fourth of July. The day we called to tell them about the baby, they informed us that they had changed their plans and were staying through Thanksgiving. They missed their grandkids and had decided to do a test run on staying in New Jersey for six months and then coming back to Miami for the next six months. If they liked it, they might end up doing it every year if they were healthy enough to travel. They asked if we would come up to Newark for Thanksgiving and have dinner with the entire family. I saw my opportunity, smacked Ranger on the arm and made the kill sign by slashing my hand in front of my throat to stop him from telling them. After he disconnected, I told him that I wanted to wait and surprise both families at Thanksgiving, when I would be very pregnant. It would spare me most of unsolicited advice time and be a great surprise. He hadn't been keen on the idea, but between guilt and threats, I had prevented him from telling anyone in New Jersey or who would get the information back to our families. I had also managed to avoid his Grandma Bella since my belly started showing.

"But it'll be so fun," I said. "Doesn't your family like surprises?"

"As long as you aren't Castro trying to take over the government, they love surprises. I'm worried about your mother's reaction," he said. "She's pretty critical. I don't want her making you feel bad."

I waved a dismissive hand. "It'll be fine. I've been dealing with her my entire life. She'll be shocked, but eventually excited. She'll be disappointed that we aren't married or don't have definitive plans to get married before the baby is born, but my mother will always be disappointed in something about me. I've learned to accept that."

"If she makes you cry, I may have to kill her."

I rolled my eyes and didn't bother commenting. He was as likely to kill my mother as he was to kill his own.

My summer schedule at MPA coupled with us living together had given us time to feel like a regular couple. Ranger had encouraged me to ease up on the investigation at the school during the summer after I had been disappointed by conversations with the male teachers I had been investigating in the last days before they all left on summer break. None of them had offered me anything to go on and while Dr. Ester had made me think he might be capable of seducing an older teenage girl, I didn't think it had happened. I had planned to start looking into the volunteer organizations next, going through each girls' record and look carefully at each place where there had been overlap. Since there wouldn't be any students around until September, Ranger managed to convince me that there was no risk at the moment to any other students that would be prevented by my snooping. The Minnesota police were continuing to investigate Macy's disappearance along with the human trafficking division of the FBI. Both entities thought it likely that she had been lured into an adoption ring, especially since she hadn't reappeared after giving birth. Apparently, such rings either killed the mothers after birth, or kept them hostage and continued to impregnate them to sell more babies. Even if she had been newly pregnant when she had taken the test at home in Minnesota, she would have given birth by early August. I had been checking in with Detective Johansen monthly over the summer. Ranger reminded me of my limits, as a human being, as someone not in law enforcement and of my responsibility to my own well-being and that of our baby. I knew I couldn't fix Amelia's damaged brain. I couldn't bring Talia back from the dead and I didn't stand a chance of finding Macy myself. I felt responsible to do my best to make sure none of these things happened to another MPA girl. And I figured I could do that by trying to figure out the connection.

Stricter rules were being placed on the students for the upcoming school year. No student could attend a community volunteer program alone. The chaperone requirements were now six students to one adult, smaller than the previous ten-to-one of past school years. That meant that teaching staff were going to be required to accompany security staff on outings to keep ratios in check. In fact, the school was now controlling exactly where students could go to complete their service hours and had cut down the number of hours required each year. The remaining hours were going to be devoted to projects on campus that were currently in development. They would no longer have the option of seeking out their own placements and submitting them for approval, but would have to choose from a selection of organizations as approved by the administration. Each student at MPA was required to select at least one community organization where they would like to volunteer during each semester with two alternates in case there weren't any opportunities at their first preference. They would do the same thing for on campus projects. There were also new rules about staff interactions with students. To reduce the risk of any alleged or actual misconduct between staff and students, teacher office hours were now required where they could have discussions with students regarding their work and the office hours were being held in a large conference room that had been converted to a work room with several small tables. To help reduce issues with conflicting times for classes, all the teachers from each separate department held their hours together on different days and times so no two departments were ever having office hours at the same time. Student aides were still permitted, but the teachers were required to keep them busy and to leave office doors open at all times when alone with a student. I heard a lot of grumbling, but Dr. Turner and the board of directors weren't backing down.

The new school year started the Tuesday after Labor Day, with one-hundred new faces added to the mix. We had new students added to the security tiers and a few moved between tiers. I still had most of the same students from last year except for a few new sixth graders. I would remain on Student Security through Thanksgiving break, unless I felt like the job became too physically demanding before that time. I would be switching roles with one of the guys from General Security after that until I had the baby in January. My plan was to return to work after spring break in March. Ranger had asked me if I wanted to return to work after the baby was born and I was adamant that I did. I wasn't stay-at-home mother material. It was going to be challenging enough to just be a mother I couldn't imagine being at home all the time with the baby. We would hire a nanny to keep the baby on the weekdays I worked until Ranger got home. Ranger had set up an office in the bedroom at the front of the house that would allow him to work from home and be available to care for the baby more than if he always worked at the downtown office. It was nice to see his commitment to being a hands-on father, especially knowing his workaholic tendencies.

I didn't want to admit it to Ranger, but the walking around the school campus was definitely harder now than it had been in June. I wasn't huge and I could often forget that I had a belly showing if I didn't look down for a while, but I wasn't able to forget it now as I walked around all day. I had gained twenty pounds by my five-month appointment and had been advised by my doctor to slow down on my eating and increase my activity. I noticed the pain in my legs and lower back on the first day, but put it down to the shoes I had worn. I went out and bought shoes that were more for comfort than style that would go with my wardrobe. They did help, but I was still worn out by the end of the day and found myself taking any opportunity I could to sit down. I hoped my body would get used to the walking. I should have probably been exercising over the summer, but I had been too busy eating for two. Hindsight and all that. I was thankful that most of the students on my security detail had taken pity on me and weren't trying to avoid me or make me come find them if they weren't where they were supposed to be. Oddly enough, the one student I had trouble from was Julie.

Ranger had gone over to Rachel's house in July to tell Julie about the baby. He had admitted to me that he was nervous to tell her because things had been somewhat strained between them. She was now on edge because of the separation of her parents and the baby Ron was having with his new girlfriend in October. She hadn't handled the news well. She had gotten mad at Ranger, saying he just didn't care about her and that was why he hadn't wanted to take back his rights to her. That he was a liar because he told her he couldn't be a father to her and now he was saying he was going to be a father to our baby. She had told him he was going to be a terrible father and that he was just going to walk away from this baby the way he had walked away from her. Rachel had attempted to calm her down, but Julie had stormed off to her room and locked herself inside. Ranger hadn't been in contact with Julie since then. He had returned home that evening, told me exactly what happened, and had gone to bed at seven-thirty. He didn't mention it after that. I occasionally asked if he had talked to Julie, but the answer was always a firm no. I knew he wasn't angry, but hurting. She had thrown in his face the guilt he felt on his own, even though both Rachel and I had told him it wasn't right.

Julie had been avoiding me at school. I managed to get her checked in during the day when she was in classes, but had missed her arrivals and departures several times because she had literally run to the car after her final class. I hadn't told Ranger, but had called Rachel and let her know about it. She agreed to not leave the campus with Julie in the car until I could come out and do the check, especially since Julie didn't behave this way for Huffington on B-shift. It had resulted in Julie walking off of campus twice after school in the first two weeks of the year.

"Paul, I can't keep Julie.," I said to him one Thursday afternoon in mid-September. "She keeps avoiding me and I can't do my job. Can I swap a tier three with someone else?"

I had been keeping a meticulous log of Julie's non-compliance with her security protocols and knew Paul had read them. I had asked him not to bring it up to Ranger.

"It's okay. I'll take her on, but we are going to talk to her together about exactly why things are changing and what's going to happen if she tries that bullshit with me," he said. "Where is she now?"

"She's at lunch," I said. "She eats in the in atrium in building B."

I was told to wait in his office while Paul fetched Julie. I felt guilty, but figured there was nothing else I could do. I didn't want Julie's safety to be at risk and I didn't want her to feel obligated to be around me. I understood her frustrations, even if I thought her behavior was childish. She was usually so mature, but I couldn't imagine being in her position as a teenager, with my parents divorcing and both my adoptive and biological fathers starting families with other women. I probably would have acted out. Hell, I acted out anyway, even with a stable family life.

Paul and Julie arrived in his office ten minutes later. She didn't look happy to see me there.

"What's going on?" she asked. I saw a hint of nerves flare up. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is wrong," Paul said, indicating for Julie to sit down in the chair next to mine. "You've been avoiding Stephanie while she does her job. I know it's because this is personal for you, but our job is to keep you safe at school and we don't have time for your childish behavior." His tone was firm and no-nonsense. "Stephanie came to me today to say she needs to have you reassigned, so I will be taking over your security detail until further notice. And I'm telling you now that if you pull any of this with me, I'll have you before Dr. Turner in a heartbeat and under so many restrictions you'll think you're in a prison instead of a fancy private school. Am I understood?"

Julie looked at her feet, obviously embarrassed and angry for being called out. She nodded and avoided eye contact with everyone as she was dismissed.

"Thank you, Paul," I said. "I'm sorry to have to bring this to you."

"Don't worry about it," he replied. "Martine's a tough kid. She has a lot going on right now, but she'll get over it."

I hoped he was right.

I spent the rest of the day checking up on everyone else, finding my routine thrown off because Julie was no longer part of it. I caught a couple of glimpses of her as she walked between buildings, but wasn't close enough for the potential of interaction. Not that I planned to talk to her. As much as I wanted things to be fixed between her and Ranger, I knew it wasn't my place to get into the middle of it. I could encourage him to talk to her, but I knew he wouldn't be happy if I tried to encourage her to do the talking. After assuring everyone was in their sixth period class, I took a rest on a bench along the walking path between buildings. It was an overcast day, though thankfully it didn't look like rain.

"How are you doing, Stephanie?" Mr. Hatch asked as he walked down the path. I had been surprised to find him back at the school, since he was supposed to be retired. It turned out that the teacher hired to replace him had undergone unexpected back surgery and couldn't work until spring semester. Mr. Hatch had offered to fill-in as a substitute for the fall semester.

"I'm good. Just taking a rest for a minute," I replied. "Just between us, all of this walking is harder now that I have this belly to carry around."

He chuckled and gave me an avuncular pat on the shoulder. "My husband is a retired obstetrician. He always says pregnant women are some of the strongest creatures on Earth. If men had to be the ones to bring the children into the world, humanity would have died out within the first few generations. I admire you for still doing this demanding job, but don't work too hard."

I waved goodbye as he continued on and decided my break was over. I didn't want the guys in the monitoring room to catch me sitting down too much and tell Ranger that I wasn't up to snuff for the job anymore.

I spent the evening in sweats and a t-shirt with my feet elevated while I looked through the girls' files. They had never volunteered at the same place at the same time and none of them had the same primary volunteer place. Macy's first preference had been at a Lutheran church a few blocks away, Talia's had been the Sunny Grove Assisted Living Center and Amelia's had been the West Miami Community Center. All three girls had done most of their volunteering at their places of preference, but I decided to pull up the actual records to see if they had been forced to go to any other sites at different points. Macy had been on a clean-up crew for a local park on one occasion and volunteered at a local library on two other occasions. Talia had done three stints at a crisis pregnancy center and one at a soup kitchen. Amelia had rotated between an after school program for at-risk youth and a senior citizen center during the first semester when she couldn't go to WMCC. But she had switched to the same crisis pregnancy center Talia had volunteered at for her second semester. I hadn't given it much thought initially, but now that I knew Talia had also done some volunteer work there in the months before she died, it gave me reason to look a little deeper.

The Open Arms Crisis Pregnancy Center was located two blocks away from the school. Its website said it was operated through donations from several local churches and the greater Miami community. It offered free pregnancy testing, free consultations with an obstetrician, maternity and baby supplies, parenting classes, and resources for adoption and public assistance should the expectant woman need them. I had only been there once and had listened to the girls complain about their teachers and homework while they sorted donated baby clothes, bottles and toys. It had been a nice place and had presented a helpful air about it. Why hadn't Amelia gone to them when she found out she was pregnant? Not that they would have pointed her to the nearest abortion clinic their website made it clear they were completely against the practice but they may have provided her with support.

But Macy hadn't volunteered there. That was the one thing that didn't connect it with all three girls. I went back through Macy's school records from previous school years, but there was no log of her ever having volunteered at Open Arms. Back to square one. I brought up the church where Macy had done her work and reviewed their website. The Coral Gables Lutheran Church had a large congregation that allowed them to operate a variety of community outreach programs. They had a head pastor and three assistant pastors who oversaw various areas. I explored the website, not exactly sure what I was hoping to find. I clicked on a tab labeled _Volunteering and Donation opportunities._ It turned out the church was part of a group that supported several soup kitchens and food banks, shelters for the homeless and victims of domestic violence and a crisis pregnancy center. It listed examples of accepted donations and had a section where you could sign up to be a volunteer. It didn't list the names or locations of the programs it ran, but the crisis pregnancy center caught my attention. Could there be a connection to Open Arms? I went back to its website and looked for any mention of the Coral Gables Lutheran Church, but didn't find any. It was too late to call the church tonight, but I was going try them in the morning. If they were part of the Open Arms supporters, maybe there were staff that did crossover work between the church and the center, which would provide a weak link between all three girls.

"Why didn't you tell me about Julie?"

I let out a shriek and jumped off the couch, barely catching my computer as it started to fall to the floor. Ranger was standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, not looking especially happy.

"Jesus Christ, make some noise when you come into a room!" I said, my hand on my chest as my heart went a mile a minute.

"Why didn't you tell me she was causing problems for you at work?" he asked, not appearing to be remotely apologetic for scaring the shit out of me.

"Because I didn't want to bother you with it. What would you have done? You've refused to talk about her or to her since July. How did you find out?"

"Rachel called to inform me that she is disciplining Julie for her behavior. Apparently, Paul went out to the car with Julie at pick up and informed Rachel why he's now covering her and what would happen if she tried to avoid him. Rachel made her quit the soccer team and has used parental controls from their phone provider to turn Julie's phone into nothing more than a brick that can call or text family members until Christmas. She assumed that I knew what was going on since I'm in a relationship and living with you and my company oversees her protection."

I walked past him into the kitchen for a snack. I really wanted ice cream with chocolate sauce and nuts, but opted for a banana. I didn't want to be Valerie and have sixty pounds left to lose after giving birth.

"You should have let me handle it," he said.

"Paul is my direct supervisor. I left it up to him."

I ignored Ranger's attempt at an intimidating stare and added peanut butter to my banana. He eventually came over to stand in front of me until I looked up at him. The anger in his face was gone and replaced by something else. Fatigue, with some pain around the edges.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with it," he said, leaning over to take bite of my banana. I scowled at him, but he gave me a small grin as he chewed.

"She's hurting, Carlos. You need to talk to her," I said. "Her family is changing all around her at a tough age. You've known she has been having a hard time with Ron lately. I don't get why you haven't been more involved since Rachel and Ron separated. Or why you haven't tried to talk her since July. You told me she got mad at you that day you took her to Ron's and you left her a voicemail a couple of weeks later. It cleared the air and things were fine until you told her I was pregnant. Why haven't you done that again?"

"I wanted to give her space," he said. "And I don't want to get too involved because I don't want her to use me as an excuse to avoid Ron or to get it in her head that I want to get my rights back."

"She has enough room in her life for both of her fathers," I said. "Her love isn't a pie. Ron won't get less just because you get more involved."

"This time I was the one who hurt her," he admitted, and I could see something flash behind his eyes. "I threw it in her face that I was going to be a father to this child when I couldn't be one to her. I'm no better than Ron in her opinion."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his chin. "It isn't the same and I think you know that. You're hurting and you're afraid she might hurt you more if you try talking to her."

I could tell I had struck a nerve, but he was too embarrassed to admit it, even to me. He apologized for freaking me out, kissed me lightly and went to work in his office until almost midnight. I heard him come down the hall, but was asleep before he climbed into bed.

I was off work until Monday, so I spent Friday trying to get through to someone at the Coral Gables Lutheran Church. A woman named Amanda Plawecki was the listed contact for volunteer programs, but I kept getting her voicemail. I tried the head pastor's office, but was sent to voicemail there as well. I finally reached an office manager around one that afternoon.

"I'm looking for someone who would have worked with Macy Reichenbach when she volunteered there," I told the woman after I introduced myself.

"Macy worked in the office with me whenever we had work for her to do," the woman replied. She had introduced herself as Camilla. "Has she still never come home?"

"No, in fact there is more suspicion that she may have been kidnapped," I said. I was taking a risk by divulging that information to someone I didn't know, but thought it might make Camilla open up more. "It turns out she was pregnant. She may have been looking for someone to adopt her baby."

"Oh, Lord," Camilla said. I had a mental image of her making the sign of the cross the way my mother did. Did Lutherans do that? "Why wouldn't she have come to us for help? She knew all about our crisis pregnancy center. She was there at least once a month. We could have helped her find adoptive parents or counseled her."

I nearly said _holy shit_ out loud, but managed to keep it to myself. "I didn't know she volunteered anywhere else. It wasn't listed on her form."

"It was only when we didn't have enough work for her to do here. It's only a couple of blocks away. She would usually catch a ride with someone or walk over. It's a safe area."

"What is the name of the center?" I asked, holding my breath as I waited for her response.

"It's the Open Arms Crisis Pregnancy Center."

I was nearly dancing in the kitchen while I waited for Ranger to come through the door that evening. He had been in meetings all day or else I would have called him with the news.

"I found a connection between all three girls!" I said the minute the door opened. "It's the Open Arms Crisis Pregnancy Center. Talia had volunteered there a couple of times last fall semester and so had Amelia. She had even changed her primary volunteer location to Open Arms for the spring semester. And today I just found out that the church where Macy did her volunteer work is the church that primarily funds Open Arms and that they frequently sent Macy over there to do work when they had nothing for her at the office, but it was never officially logged because she always went to the church first!"

Ranger set his work bag down on the counter and put his hands on my shoulder. "Breathe, Babe."

I took a couple of deep breaths, but it did nothing to quell the excitement. I finally had a lead that felt right. "I'm going to start looking at the people who worked there. It's mostly volunteer stuff, but there are doctors who provide free checkups and a couple of other paid positions that I want to look at. Open Arms is still on the list of approved volunteer sites, so I'm going to make sure I get assigned to monitor during the next volunteer day so I can check the place out again."

Ranger didn't look nearly as excited as I felt. In fact, he looked closer to annoyed.

"Give the information to Detective Johansen and let the FBI look into it," he said, loosening his tie. "There's nothing else you can do."

I put my hands on my hips and frowned at him. "They aren't going to look into this based on that little bit of information alone. I need to see if there is something or someone there that seems off. I can look into it "

"Leave it alone, Stephanie," Ranger said, his voice firm and sharp. "Pass on the information and walk away. You aren't in bond enforcement any longer and can justify sticking your nose into police business because you have an FTA involved. This could be serious crimes involving pregnant women. _You_ are a pregnant woman," he said, nodding towards my belly. "Do you really want to draw attention to yourself if there is a trafficking ring being run through the center? Don't you think that if you got too close to be exposing someone that they might decide to take you and sell our daughter on the black market once she's born? Has that crossed your mind?" He was angry now. He left the room and I could hear him moving around in our bedroom.

I instinctively ran a hand over my belly. The truth was that I hadn't considered myself a target. I wasn't a teenage girl or a member of a particularly vulnerable population, which seemed to be the groups that baby traffickers preferred. There had been three more bodies of women who had been suspected victims of a trafficking ring found over the summer. It wasn't something covered on the news, but information I managed to get out of Detective Johansen by pestering him. One in Missouri, another in Alabama and the last one in Kentucky. All three women had been pregnant and given birth multiple times and all three had been killed shortly after giving birth. Two of the women, both under thirty, had been runaways girls who had been in and out of foster care and juvenile detention centers until they had both disappeared from Seattle around the same time. The third woman had been almost forty. She had never officially been reported missing, but had been able to be identified from the serial number on a plate in her skull. She had been in a major car accident as a teenager that had left her with brain damage. She had apparently been in and out of homeless shelters and halfway houses in Los Angeles for years before her family lost track of her over ten years ago. They had assumed she was long dead.

I heard the shower start running in our bathroom, indicating that Ranger wasn't coming back out to finish our discussion. I was running through the argument in my head that I was going to present to him when he got out when I felt the baby start to move around. It had been amazing to feel her inside me as she got bigger and more active. My throat tightened and tears stung my eyes as I thought of someone taking her away from me against my will and giving her to strangers for the highest bid. I sighed, abandoned my plans to argue some more, and picked up my cell phone to call Detective Johansen.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Ranger's POV**_

I turned up the water temperature in the shower until it reached a point that I could barely tolerate. I let it pour over me while I got my thoughts together. I had been looking forward to a quiet evening at home with Stephanie after a long day. I was even prepared to sit through her Netflix binging just so I could be close to her. I hadn't slept well the night before after our conversation about Julie. I had no idea what I was supposed to do to fix things with her. I hadn't done anything wrong or that I regretted. Logically, I knew that Julie's issues were mostly tied up with her parent's impending divorce, but it didn't take away the guilt I felt over upsetting her. To her, my contribution was just one more adult in her life telling her that she wasn't their priority any longer. I had decided on the drive home that I was going to ask Stephanie for her input on what I should do. It was against every fiber of my being, but I knew she would have good advice.

I hadn't expected her to resume her investigation into the MPA girls. I had encouraged her to put it away over the summer and hoped she wouldn't pick it up again. I hadn't been convinced of some connection between the girls at first, but hadn't thought there was much harm in letting her figure that out for herself. On the contrary, I had thought there would be less harm in getting her permission than to let her sneak around on her own. Once she had learned she was pregnant and later that there could be a legitimate connection to a black market baby ring, I had become concerned. With the FBI and Minnesota police involved and now taking the girl's disappearance seriously, it had been easier to get her to back off than it would have been otherwise. I had hoped that would be enough to satisfy her need to help and alleviate any undeserved guilt she felt over what had happened with the three girls. Now she was calling places that could be involved, putting her name out there and herself at risk. Sometimes I wasn't sure if Stephanie was clueless or reckless.

She was lying on the bed watching television when I came out of the bathroom. She paused the show as I opened dresser drawers to pull out a t-shirt and shorts.

"I left a message for Detective Johansen about the pregnancy center," she said. "I gave him all of the information I had and talked about why I was suspicious. I'll leave it to the police and the FBI to look into it."

I was both surprised and skeptical at this announcement. While I was happy that she had passed along the information and was saying she would let them handle it, I also knew Stephanie Plum. She would mentally cross her fingers while telling me what she knew I wanted to hear and then go through with what she wanted to do anyway. I had dealt with this before.

"I hope you're telling me the truth and not just trying to get me off your back," I said as I pulled on my clothes.

She held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"Didn't you get kicked out of the Girl Scouts?"

She threw a pillow at me. "Very funny. I'm serious, though. I hadn't thought about being at risk until you mentioned it. I just assumed these people would only go after women who were in desperate situations, but I guess any baby will do if they think they can get it. I'm not willing to risk someone taking little Lorelai from us."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, kissing her lightly on the lips. Maybe my skepticism wasn't warranted this time, but I wasn't going to let my guard down easily. "And we aren't naming our daughter Lorelai."

"Why not?" She shouted down the hallway after me as I went to fetch my laptop. "It's a pretty name, and we can call her Rory as a nickname."

"That's even worse," I said as I came back into the room.

She reached into her bedside table and pulled out a legal pad where she had been keeping a running list of the baby names she liked. I saw her scratch off a name towards the bottom of the list. "Have you come up with some names like I asked you to do _three weeks ago?"_

"I did, though I couldn't come up with as many as you asked. I only have seven," I said, logging onto my computer.

Stephanie shook her head. "Let's go through my list then. Tell me if you like the name, hate the name, or if you're on the fence about it." She turned to face me and cleared her throat when I didn't look away from the computer. "I want to see your reaction to each one. Put your computer away for a second."

I pushed the laptop away and turned to face her. "Okay. Let's hear them."

"Okay, so they aren't in any preferential order, just random. The first one I have down is Mia," she said. The delight in her expression so obvious that I wanted to kiss her.

"I like the name, but it has already been taken by one of my nieces." I said.

"Oh, okay." She scratched the name off her list and I could tell she was disappointed. "Jessica."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've dated two Jessicas, both slutty lunatics."

The sigh she emitted that time was less disappointed and more disgusted.

"How about Roxanne?" she asked. "It sounds sassy."

"It sounds like a rock star's girlfriend. Plus, there's that song about a prostitute named Roxanne."

"But I like it," Stephanie whined. I shook my head. She nearly ripped the paper crossing that name off. "Sophia?"

"I have a sister named Sofia."

"Why don't you tell me the names of your sisters and nieces or any commonly occurring women's names in your family and I'll just cross them off the list if they're on it," she suggested, looking less delighted and more annoyed.

"My sisters are Celia, Sofia, Silvia, and Aurelia. My nieces are Katrina, Layla, Mia, Elena, Veronica, Maria, and Vivienne," I said, struggling not to laugh as Stephanie began furiously crossing off several names. "Other common names in my family are Ana, Isabela, and, oddly enough Tiffany."

"I had Sophia, Sylvia, Layla, Elena, Mia, and Vivienne. That's half my list gone in twenty seconds!"

"What's left?" I asked.

Stephanie sighed and scanned the few remaining names. "Fiona, Elizabeth, Natasha, Nora, Angelina and Diana."

"I'm fine with Elizabeth, even though it's Julie's middle name. And I like Nora. But no to rest of them," I said. I reached for my computer, thinking we were done, but Stephanie smacked my hand.

"Hang on, mister. Why don't you like the rest of them?"

"Fiona is weird. I've slept with more than one Natasha. I lost my virginity to an Angelina. I had a serious relationship with a woman named Diana in college and I suspect you like that name because of Wonder Woman." I replied.

Stephanie gave me a look that said I was right about the name Diana, but that she would eat her own arm before admitting it.

"If we have to avoid names because you've slept with or dated someone with that name then we are going to have to resort to boy names."

"I said I liked Elizabeth and Nora."

She threw her list onto the table in disgust. "Tell me what's on your list so I can shoot them down."

I managed to not roll my eyes as I opened the file on the computer where I had been keeping the few names I had researched and liked.

"I have Stella, Liana, Grace, Genevieve, Claire, Madelyn, and Serafina," I read off. I turned to look at Stephanie and found her dumbstruck. "What?"

"I wasn't sure what I was expecting from you, but that list wasn't it." She said after a few seconds pause. She spoke slowly, like someone had hit her in the head. "Can you read them again?"

I read it off again, watching her face as I did so.

"Were these just the names that you could find that weren't weird, but weren't shared by past sexual partners?"

"No, they are names I found online or just like in general. I've slept with a Claire and a Madelyn, but they weren't particularly memorable. Do you hate all of them?" I asked.

"No, I don't. I actually really like them. How did you come up with each one?"

I groaned. "Babe. Can't you just decide if you want to name our daughter one of them and be done?"

Stephanie grabbed the computer and put it on her lap. "Why do you like Stella?"

I leaned back against my pillows. She wouldn't let this go. "I had a crush on a girl in high school named Lydia. She wanted nothing to do with me. She was big into theatre, and out of desperation I signed up to be a stagehand in the local production of _A Streetcar Named Desire_ where she was playing Stella. I've always liked the name Stella since then," I said, all the time avoiding eye contact.

"Did you get the girl?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"No. It turned out that while I was there because I wanted to fuck Lydia, she was there because she wanted to fuck a girl named Kiana, who was playing Blanche."

I could tell Stephanie was trying hard not to smile. "So, you got stuck working on a play and had to watch the girl you wanted badly chase after another girl?"

"Yes."

"And you still like the name Stella?"

"Yes, though I don't like the name Lydia."

That made Stephanie laugh. "Okay. That's a cute story. What about Liana?"

"It was just a name I found online that I liked. The Spanish meaning of it is 'my God has answered'. It felt appropriate."

Stephanie watched me for a second before leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Grace?"

"Just a name I like."

"Genevieve?"

"I saw it on one of those name lists and liked it. Genevieve is also the patron saint of Paris. She was known for being rational and courageous. It is believed she saved the city through her prayers and sent Attila the Hun towards Orleans instead of Paris."

Stephanie looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "How do you know that? I don't think I learned that in church."

"Am I not allowed to know things outside of sex and security?"

"You don't talk about much else," she said. That made me sound pretty shallow, something that stung more than I would have expected.

"Claire?"

"I just like it. The same for Madelyn."

"And Serafina? That sounds exotic."

"I found it online. It means 'fiery' and there was an Italian saint named Serafina who made clothes for the poor."

I saw tears start to fall down Stephanie's cheeks. She put the computer on the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck. I held her, not entirely sure why she was crying. Did all women get this emotional when naming their unborn children? Had Rachel sobbed while choosing Julie's name? How did my father handle this with my mother so many times? He probably just went along with whatever name my mother said first. I would have done that except Stephanie's first choice was already taken by another member of my family.

"Babe. Why are you crying?" I asked once the tears turned into sniffles.

"You've put so much thought into naming our baby something meaningful. I've tried naming her after a superhero and the Gilmore Girls."

"It isn't that complicated. I was just trying to find names I liked. I didn't set out to find a name with any certain meaning."

"How did you come up with Julie's name?" she asked after blowing her nose.

"I didn't have any part in naming her. Rachel just emailed me one day after finding out that the baby was a girl and told me her name would be Julie Elizabeth," I said, clearly recalling that day in my mind. I had been stationed in Iraq at the time and my infantry had just witnessed an IED kill twelve people earlier that day, including a woman who had been walking down the road with her infant daughter in her arms.

"Can we talk about Julie?" I asked, trying to clear my head of the images that still came back to occasionally haunt me. "I think you're right that I need to talk to her, but I don't know what to say."

She positioned a pillow under her body so that she could relax more comfortably on her side. "What are you feeling?"

"Babe."

"Carlos," she replied in a mocking tone. "You need to figure out what you're feeling before you can ever try to figure out her feelings and how to help her."

I felt like I was laying on a therapist's couch. "I feel guilty for causing her pain," I said. "I know that it isn't all my fault that she's hurting. It's because of Rachel and Ron being separated and Ron getting his own girlfriend pregnant while they are going through the divorce."

"So, if you were in that position as kid, what would you have needed to hear from your parents?"

"I guess I actually was in that position as a kid, though I didn't know about it until recently. But I guess if I had known and been old enough to understand what was going on, I would have wanted to know that I wasn't being forgotten and that my parents still loved me," I said after taking a minute to think about it.

"Okay, so just make sure she knows you aren't forgetting about her. Ask her what she needs from you," Stephanie said. "I think you keeping your distance out of fear of hurting her relationship with Ron isn't the answer."

"You're probably right," I said. "I'll go over to the house tomorrow to see her."

"That sounds like a good idea. Now tell me how you were in this position as a kid, but didn't know about it until recently," she asked, her inquisitiveness in high-gear. I told her about my father's confession at Christmas about his affair and my secret half-sister in Boston.

"And no, I've never unknowingly slept with my own sister. I immediately went through the list in my head," I stated as Stephanie opened her mouth to speak after I had finished my story. The relief that crossed her face told me I had anticipated her question.

"Your mother knows about this and was willing to stay married to him?"

"Yes. They've worked through it. She knows about the child. She doesn't know that he has met her or that I know about her. And none of my siblings know about her."

"That's amazing," Stephanie said. "There are days when I don't think my parent's marriage will survive another day with Grandma Mazur under their roof. I don't know if they would survive an affair, especially one resulting in a child." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you ever cheat on me, I will peel the skin off your body, feed it to you, and then set you on fire."

I had an uncomfortable flashback to that night in December with Jenna. I hadn't technically cheated because we hadn't technically been a couple, but it was close enough. No, I wasn't bringing that up. "Babe, you nearly fainted after watching Lula stick a needle through a gangbanger's toe when his crew was trying to kill you. While I believe that you would leave my sorry ass without looking back, I'm not going to lay awake at night afraid that you'll skin me, force me to self-cannibalize and then set me on fire."

"You're right," she said with a smile that was sweet and scary at the same time. "What I'd actually do is crush up some sleeping pills in a glass of wine one night when you weren't expecting it. Not enough to make it obvious that someone drugged you, but enough to equal a normal maximum dose. After you went to sleep that night, I'd carelessly knock over a candle I left lit on the table next to the bed. When I came back to the bedroom after getting myself a nice snack, I would find it engulfed in flames. I would rush outside and call 911, but sadly you would have to be identified through your dental records."

I took a beat to reply. "Now that's fucking scary. Why didn't you do that to Dickie Orr?"

"Because I didn't have a child with him." Stephanie's grin was smugly satisfied as she handed my computer to me and headed to the master bathroom. She turned back to face me from the doorway. "Oh, and I think we should name the baby Serafina Grace."

I decided to tackle the toughest part of my Saturday first, so I drove to Rachel's house shortly after nine. She and Ron had purchased a home in a pleasant working-class neighborhood not far from the airport right after they got married. It had managed to survive the housing market crash of 2008 without too many victims and home values were slowly working their way back up. I pulled into the driveway behind Rachel's silver minivan and took a minute to organize my thoughts. I knew what the intent behind my conversation with Julie needed to be, but I didn't know the actual words to say. I should have brought Stephanie along with ear pieces so she could talk me through it.

When Rachel answered my knock a minute later, she was wearing a snug navy dress that showed off her legs and a lot of cleavage. She wasn't wearing shoes or make up and her hair looked like a brush had been run hastily through it. Even so, she was sexy. I had a brief flashback to the eighteen-year old girl I had seduced fourteen years earlier.

"Walk of shame or laundry day?" I asked after taking in her outfit. She rolled her eyes and stepped back to allow me inside.

"Neither. I have a date tonight and I'm trying to decide what to wear," she said. I followed her into the living room, which was silent and empty.

"What are you hoping to get out of this date?"

"Hopefully, some great sex," she said. "Pretend we've been chatting on Tinder and have made dinner plans. Would you want to sleep with me afterwards if I wore this?"

"I met you randomly on a beach while you were wearing a tank and shorts and wanted to have sex with you. But Stephanie tells me I'm slutty, so I may not give good advice."

"We were fourteen years younger and I've had three kids since then. Is this dress too much? I don't want to look desperate, even though I am. Sex with Ron wasn't great, but it was better than nothing."

I had no doubt Ron was a bore in bed. He was a nice guy. Nice guys usually weren't very inventive. "Rachel, unless the guy is blind, gay, or devoutly religious, you'll be getting laid tonight. Just remember to use a condom," I said with a smirk. She threw her head back and laughed, the irony lost on neither of us.

"I thought the kids would be home this weekend," I said. "I checked to see who picked Julie up yesterday before I came over."

"She's studying in the backyard." Rachel said as she walked down the hall to her bedroom. "She hasn't been to Ron's in six weeks."

"Is she refusing to go again?"

"The last time she was at his house she told him that she saw Shelby kissing a black guy in the alley behind the house," Rachel yelled from her room. "He said she was lying and told her not to come back until she was willing to admit that she made it up. She insists she didn't and refuses to pretend she lied about it." She came out of her bedroom wearing a yellow t-shirt and Pilates pants. "I told her that I believe her, but that Dad may be in denial and not want to hear it."

I glanced out the living room window and saw Julie sitting on the A-framed wooden swing in the corner of the backyard.

"How has she been doing?" I asked.

Rachel sat down on the couch and started folding the clothes sitting in a laundry basket on the floor. "Withdrawn and irritable, especially since I grounded her the other day. She stays in her room a lot, she yells a lot and hates everyone. Not totally out of character for a teenager, but she has always been mature for her age so it's strange for her. Did you come over to talk to her about the way she has been behaving toward Stephanie?"

I shook my head. "No, I came to tell her that I'm not abandoning her for the new baby and to see what she needs from me. I don't know if it'll be much help, but I figure I should try."

I headed outside and across the yard. Julie was sitting cross-legged on the bench, typing furiously on her laptop while consulting a book that was balanced on the arm of the seat. She didn't notice me right away, but did a double-take when she realized someone was approaching her. Her brief look of surprise was replaced by a look of stubborn defiance. There was no doubt I had given my parents the same look countless times as a kid.

"Mom already yelled at me and I'm grounded because Stephanie made me switch to Paul for security," she said. "I don't need a lecture from you, too."

I sat down on the seat next to her and the bench swayed slightly. "I'm not here talk about that. Not directly, at least." I looked out over the yard, which was strewn with soccer balls, Frisbees, and small limbs that had fallen from the trees. "I don't really know what to say. I just know you are a teenager who has a lot of stuff going on in your life right now and I've contributed to it."

She stubbornly looked at the ground, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. But I could tell she was listening.

"I've told you before why I let Ron adopt you. It wasn't easy for me to do that, but I've never regretted it. He was able to be the type of father you needed when I wasn't capable of being that for anyone. But my life is different now. I'm different and I'm hoping that I can be a good father to this baby. I'm hoping I can give her what I couldn't give you. I understand if that bothers you, but that isn't going to make this baby go away. Or make me walk away from her and Stephanie."

I saw Julie glance at my knees and felt like I must be headed in the right direction.

"I don't want that," she said quietly. "I like Stephanie and I like that you guys are having a baby." She let out a heavy sigh and uncrossed her legs, but didn't say anything else right away. I waited for her to continue.

"I've tried so hard to be normal since I got kidnapped. I know my friends and the other kids my age don't want to be normal. They want to be edgy and different, but I don't. And every time I think I'm finally starting to feel normal, something happens and messes it all up."

I felt my heart sink into my stomach. "I thought you had worked through all of that in counseling."

Julie gave her head a frustrated shake. "It isn't just the kidnapping stuff. I thought my life was normal until about second grade, when I found out that my family wasn't normal. Most kids don't get adopted by their stepparents unless one of their parents are dead or in prison forever. But I got over it when Mom explained it to me. Then I skipped third grade and I was younger than everyone else and had to make new friends in fourth grade. Then I got kidnapped the next year by some guy wanting to be you. When he had me and was trying to act like he was my father, I didn't know if he was really acting like you or not because I didn't know you very well. When I came home afterwards, I heard all about my picture being on the news and the Amber Alerts. Mom would barely let me out of her sight to go to the kitchen for a drink. Kids at school wanted to know what it was like to be kidnapped. I couldn't go anywhere without people looking at me and I knew they were talking about me like a freak or something. I just wanted my normal life back. Then I switched to Menendez and I had trouble making friends because I was younger than everyone else and I wasn't rich. But last summer, I finally felt like I was kind of normal. School was good, I had friends there that didn't care that I'm not rich and that I'm younger than them. I had my parents, my brother and sister and you." She turned to look me in the eye for the first time and I knew to stay quiet. "Then Stephanie came to work at school and then you moved down here and I was excited because I thought I might see you more. Then Dad moved out and Mom said they were getting divorced. I didn't know why exactly, but I figured he must have been cheating on her when he moved in with Shelby so quickly. But you don't come around anymore than you did when you lived in New Jersey. And then Dad tells us that he and Shelby are having a baby. And then you tell me you and Stephanie are having a baby. Now I'm in high school and my friends are getting different friends. Dad doesn't believe me that Shelby was kissing some other guy and Mom's going on a date tonight. It all just sucks." Her voice broke at the end and she looked down at her feet again.

I could understand where she was coming from. I had struggled to feel normal and fit in as kid, though for different reasons. And I felt guilty that I had been part of that struggle for her.

"I've always kept my distance because I didn't want to interfere with your relationship with Ron," I told her. "I wanted you to bond with him and love him. And I didn't come around more after your parents split up because I didn't want to interfere with you fixing your relationship with him. Maybe that wasn't the right thing to do." I took a minute and debated whether I should divulge my next thoughts. I had never said them out loud to anyone and didn't even like to acknowledge them to myself. But one look at Julie's face and the pain in it told me that she needed it from me. I glanced back out over the yard again, more uncomfortable with this conversation than I had been with the one in July. I almost never exposed myself emotionally to anyone and even that had been limited to Stephanie and my parents on rare occasions. I had worked exceptionally hard to keep myself emotionally distanced from Julie, which made this even more difficult.

"Another reason I've always kept my distance is because it's hard to watch your child call another man Dad, even when you agreed to it and know it's for the best. Maybe that was selfish of me, but I've always wanted the best for you. And if what you need now is for me to play a bigger part in your life, then I will."

Neither of us said anything for a while, but sat quietly while the sounds of a neighbor mowing the lawn and planes taking off from the airport filled the air.

"I'd like that," Julie said after a few minutes. "I could come visit you guys and help with the baby once it gets here. I took the Safe Sitter course so I could babysit for kids around here."

"That's good, because Stephanie and I don't know what we're doing."

That made her laugh. And then she surprised me when she leaned over to hug me. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

When she let go, she picked up her school things and indicated that we should go inside.

"Can I have Stephanie back at school?" She asked as we walked up to the house together. "I promise I won't give her a hard time anymore."

I nodded. "Yes, you can. But she will only be there until Thanksgiving. After that she's swapping positions with a guy who does monitor duty until after she gets back from maternity leave."

"That's okay. Paul scares me," Julie admitted sheepishly.

"That's good. I prefer my employees be at least a little scary. We'd be pretty bad security guards if people weren't intimidated by us."

"Stephanie isn't scary."

"She's an exception. Besides, she informed me last night how she would kill me if I were to ever cheat on her and that was enough to scare me, so she has her moments."

"Hey, Mom," Julie said as we re-entered the living room. "You should talk to Stephanie. Apparently, she has a plan on how to kill him if he cheats on her."

"Julie!" Rachel scolded. "You know I'm squeamish. It's a good thing I didn't end up going to nursing school. I wouldn't have lasted."

"If you can't stomach doing it on your own, that's when you use a hitman," I suggested. "It's risky, but it can be done and done clean."

"That's a good idea," Julie said. "Do you know any?"

"Stop it, both of you," Rachel said, though she was trying not to laugh. "No one is getting murdered, even if I've thought he deserved it on a few occasions."

I stayed for a few minutes while I made plans to pick Julie up from school during one of Stephanie's days off the following week. She would have dinner with us and I would take her home that evening.

"I forgot to ask you about having a patrol car stick close to the neighborhood tonight," Rachel said as I was preparing to leave. "I've been letting Julie stay alone some lately, but she has to keep the house locked, the alarm on and check in with me every fifteen minutes. I've also installed locks on the inside of her closet so if she must hide, she can do so in there. I would feel better if I knew that she could get help faster if she needed it." I watched Julie roll her eyes behind her mother's back.

"How about she comes over to my house? It's Stephanie's night to cook, so that means either frozen pizza or going out. And I think she wants to go shopping for baby things and I might need the back-up," I suggested.

"I like that idea better," Rachel said. Julie nodded in agreement.

"I'll pick you up at five," I told Julie. "If you two have nothing to do and want to make a list of things people need when they have new babies, that would be helpful. We really don't know what we're doing."

Rachel patted me on the arm. "Don't worry. I've had three kids and sometimes I still don't feel like I have it all figured out." 

"That isn't helpful."

"Do you know the sex of the baby?" she asked. I saw her grab a notepad and pen from the desk in the corner.

"Girl." 

"One more woman in your life," Julie crooned. "Do you guys have a name yet?"

"We just decided last night. Serafina Grace."

Rachel and Julie both made noises that caused me to roll my eyes. 

"How did Stephanie come up with that name?" Rachel asked.

"She didn't. I did."

"Wow," Julie said. "That's amazing."

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Why does it come as such a shock that I can do a Google search on baby names?"

"I just assumed you would go with whatever Stephanie wanted," Rachel commented as she jotted notes on her paper.

"I would have, but several of the names she liked were already taken by members of my family and I refused to name her after the Gilmore Girls," I said, one hand on the door so I could escape the third degree.

"Lorelai!" both women said in unison. I shook my head in disgust and walked out the door.

I received a call on Monday morning from Paul.

"The FBI is coming in to talk to Dr. Turner and the security team about Macy Reichenbach," he said. "Apparently, Stephanie gave them some information about one of the volunteer sites the kids go to and they want to talk about it some more. They'll be here at noon. I figured you would want to be here. I know Dr. Turner called the school lawyer."

Fuck. I wasn't sure how Stephanie was going to handle having to spend more time in the same room as Jenna now that she was pregnant.

"Okay, I'll be there," I said. I made a note on my calendar and sent an email to the branch manager to attend the meetings scheduled at the office in my place. My next step was to send a text message to Stephanie.

 _ **FBI coming to the school at noon and will want to talk to you. I'll be there. So will Jenna.**_

Her reply came in a few minutes later.

 _Okay. See you then._

That response had seemed normal enough, but I also knew Stephanie. _Okay_ could be passive-aggressive, aggressive, or just a normal response. I guess I would find out when I got to the school.

I arrived at the school at quarter to twelve and was met by Paul, who informed me that the interviews were taking place in the conference room in Building B. Dr. Turner was standing outside the door to the conference room as was Jenna. The FBI hadn't arrived yet and there was a department meeting still in progress.

"I wanted to talk to you before the FBI gets here," Jenna said quietly. She was dressed in a navy suit with a peach colored shirt underneath. She was taller than Dr. Turner, but shorter than me. She crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up so I had a full view of them as I looked at her. "None of your employees are obligated to talk to the FBI."

"They will all cooperate." I said, keeping my eyes on her face. "Stephanie is the one who gave them the information, so she will probably have the most to tell them," I said. I consulted a list that Paul handed me. "We only have three members of the Student Team who have been to the center in addition to Stephanie."

"That's fine," Jenna said. "They just want to speak to anyone who has accompanied students there since August of last year."

We were seated in the conference room and joined minutes later by a young FBI agent named Lucas Melton. He was in his late-twenties, young enough to still be eager about a case and but jaded enough to be realistic. He asked to interview Stephanie first and that she remain in the room for the rest of the interviews, in case he had follow up questions about something mentioned by another employee. Paul went to get Stephanie while the rest of us waited. When Stephanie walked into the room, there was no question that she was pregnant. She was wearing a black-and-white-striped dress that fit snugly over her growing belly and breasts. She looked sexy to the man who loved her and professional to everyone else. If Stephanie had known about the meeting with the FBI and Jenna before leaving the house that morning, I would have thought she had planned her outfit on purpose to draw attention to her belly. She took a seat between myself and Paul, directly across from Melton. Jenna was seated across from me and Dr. Turner was on Melton's other side.

Special Agent Melton introduced himself to Stephanie and got to work asking her questions about the information she had shared with Detective Johansen. I watched her talk, sometimes getting lost in my own daydreams while she shared information that I already knew. I caught Jenna nudge me under the table with her foot and discreetly point to her phone. I checked my own and found a text message from her.

 _ **Quit ogling your pregnant employee. That's a sexual harassment suit of biblical proportions waiting to happen. If you want to look at someone's tits, you can see mine any time you like.**_

I didn't give her any acknowledgement. Jenna was a nice person, but dogged when it came to getting what she wanted. And what she had been wanting in the past year was me. I had ignored numerous text messages from her, inviting me to her place or out to dinner.

The interviews with the other Rangeman employees took an hour in total. Melton had done a couple of follow up questions with Stephanie before stating that the FBI wanted to get someone on the inside to see if the center had any ties to illegal adoptions. Dr. Turner had asked if it was safe to continue sending the students there to volunteer. Melton encouraged it as to avoid arousing any suspicions.

"That wasn't terrible," Dr. Turner stated once Melton had left. "Thank you for sharing that information with the police, Stephanie. Perhaps it will help find poor Macy."

"Yes, thank you for your cooperation in this, Stephanie." Jenna said once the room was empty except for us and Stephanie. "And I see congratulations are in order. When is your baby due?"

Stephanie smiled serenely, which I knew as complete bullshit and meant she was up to something. "Thank you. I'm due in late January."

"Is it your first?" Jenna asked, slowly working her way around the table towards me.

"It is," Stephanie said cheerfully. She put one hand on her belly and the other on my arm. "It'll be like his first all over again, since his daughter Julie will turn fourteen right before she's born."

Jenna stopped in her tracks, unable to hide her surprise. "I didn't realize you two were a couple."

"We keep it discreet on the job, even though everyone knows," Stephanie said. "We've been off and on for a while, but on for good since March. We're trying to get a date nailed down to get married before the baby gets here, but I'm not sure if we'll manage. We may have to elope to Vegas before I get too big to fly." She glanced down at her phone. "Oh, I have to go. I have a student trying to skip class. It was nice to see you again, Jenna," she said. She ran her hand down my arm in a way that showed intimacy between us without being over the top. "See you at home, Carlos."

I followed Stephanie out of the room, but Jenna caught me by the arm before I could clear the door.

"Were you two together when you fucked me back in December?" she hissed.

"No."

Jenna folded her arms across her chest, but resisted pushing her breasts up. "I can't believe you're getting married and having a baby."

The comment about getting married before the baby was born had been news to me, but not unpleasant. I was ready to get married anytime Stephanie was. But I wasn't sure if she had been serious or just getting a dig in at Jenna.

"The right woman can change things," I said. "I need to get going, unless you had more questions about the center."

The disappointment was evident, but Jenna seemed to shake it off. "No, that's all. Thank you for coming."

I found Stephanie a few minutes later as she headed across the grounds. I could tell she was struggling to not look too pleased with herself.

"Babe," I commented, running a finger across her belly. "That was good."

She smiled at me. "I thought so, too. I'm glad I was wearing this dress. I think I look pretty good in it."

"You won't hear any argument from me. I was surprised to learn that we are trying to set a wedding date."

She waved the comment away. "I was just trying to get under her skin. I wasn't trying to give you any hints."

"So, you don't want to get married?"

Stephanie shrugged. "I would like to be married before the baby is born, but I'm not going demand it. I don't want to rush you into anything. It's not like we were planning to get pregnant two months in."

"And if I want to get married?"

She looked taken aback by that. "If you wanted to get married, you know, before the baby is born, that would be good with me."

I broke the rules we had for work and kissed her. The only people likely to see were the guys watching the external monitors. "I guess I'd better go ring shopping."

I gave her hand a squeeze and headed back to my car. As I walked away, I heard her telling someone on her ear piece that the only woman who ever kissed him was his mother.


	24. Chapter 24

_**A/N: Back to Stephanie's POV on this chapter.**_

Ranger and I were married two days before my thirty-fifth birthday in the Coral Gables District Court. We didn't invite anyone and the ceremony lasted a whole ten minutes. Ranger surprised me afterwards with a three-day trip to Puerto Rico where we stayed at the Ritz-Carlton. Along with the terrific sex and room service, I was pampered with a full spa treatment of facial, manicure, pedicure and pregnancy massage. The only downside had been the conversation I had with my mother on my birthday.

We had agreed that springing both marriage and a baby on our families at Thanksgiving was a lot of surprise, so we decided we would call our parents and tell them we eloped. We had called Lola and Javier on my birthday, who had been delighted to hear the news. They had welcomed me to the family, told Ranger not to screw it up, wished me a happy birthday and told me that we could do something special to celebrate when we saw them the next month. We had spent so much time on the phone with them that we had to wait to call my mother because I knew she would be at Mass.

My mother had called me to wish me a happy birthday before we had a chance to call her. The conversation that followed had been the most heated exchanged we'd had in our thirty-five years as mother and daughter. It would replay on an unwanted loop in my head like an annoying song for weeks afterwards, even as I sat on the plane during our flight to New Jersey for the Thanksgiving holiday.

" _I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday," my mother said when I had answered the phone. "I didn't interrupt you at work, did I?" Ranger was down at the gym, because he was a freak who didn't think that all the sex involved in a honeymoon counted as a workout. I would just deliver the news without him. He would probably prefer it that way. I imagined he would have let me tell his parents on my own if he thought he could get away with it._

" _Thanks," I said. "No, I'm not working. Carlos and I are in Puerto Rico for the weekend."_

" _That's a nice birthday present," my mother replied. "I think the most extravagant birthday gift your father has ever given me was a dinner at that Greek restaurant in Hamilton Township one year."_

" _This isn't just my birthday gift," I said. I suddenly had butterflies. She may be upset that we didn't have a wedding or at least invite our parents to the court house with us. But I was prepared for that. "I was actually going to tell you tomorrow that we got married the other day."_

 _There was silence on the other end of the line so long that I checked to see if the call had been dropped. "Mom? Are you still there?"_

" _Are you kidding me?" she asked. "Please tell me you're joking."_

" _Not joking, Mom. We're really married. Husband and wife. Til death do us part and all that."_

 _More silence._

" _This was the point where Carlos's parents congratulated us," I joked, my voice barely escaping my tightening throat._

" _Of course they would be thrilled. He clearly married someone far better than him," my mother said sourly. My head snapped back violently, as though my mother had slapped me through the phone._

 _"Excuse me?" I said. "What does that mean?"_

" _It means he isn't good enough for you. Mother of God," she said, and I could imagine her making the sign of the cross. "Did he get you pregnant? Is that why you married him?"_

 _I rubbed a hand over my swollen abdomen. "I married him because I love him. Why do you assume that I would only marry him if he got me pregnant? And why do you say he isn't good enough for me?"_

" _He's a thug. He walks around wearing black all the time, commanding a bunch of other thugs into saying they do private security but are probably robbing people blind in the process," she said. "I thought this was just a phase and that you would get him out of your system, move back to Trenton and marry Joseph. Joseph is a nice man with a good job and a house. Now you've tied your life to an immoral man who doesn't seem to live anywhere."_

 _I wasn't totally surprised that my mother didn't approve of Ranger the way she would have approved of Morelli, but the way she was talking about him did surprise me. I had never heard her be so openly hostile. She had never been anything but polite to Ranger._

" _Morelli and I broke up. I was never going to marry him. And don't you think I'm capable of making my own decision about who is right for me to marry? Carlos loves me, and I love him. We're happy. We have a good relationship, better than what I ever had with Morelli. Carlos is a nice man, he has a better job than Morelli and you know damn well that he lives with me." I said, feeling angrier with each second. "Why can't you be happy for me?"_

" _Because you're reckless and irresponsible, Stephanie. For God's sake, you've married a man who couldn't be bothered to raise his own child," she snapped. "You told me yourself that he gave up his daughter for adoption when her mother got remarried. What kind of man does that? If you think a man like that is going to settle down and stay faithful, then you're more na_ _ï_ _ve than I thought. I hope you don't get pregnant by him because neither of you is fit to raise children. He's a hoodlum in expensive clothes and a fancy car. He's no better than a common drug dealer. Men like that don't stay with one woman or raise the children they make when they sleep around. It'll be Dickie Orr all over again, only worse. You'll move back to town and your father and I will have to help you out because you won't have a job or anything else because everything was his."_

 _I could feel a vein throbbing at my temple and I was starting to shake. "I never once relied on you or moved in with you after Dickie and I split up."_

" _What do you call all those meals eaten at my house in those years between your divorce and when you moved to Miami? And the laundry and borrowing the Buick and staying at our house when your apartment would get firebombed? Is that not relying on us? What would you have done otherwise?"_

" _How fucking dare, you. You haven't tried to get to know Carlos." I said angrily, my Italian temper reaching critical levels. "He isn't perfect and there's stuff in his past that isn't easy, but he's a good man. He's a veteran, he owns his own business, he can cook and clean and knows how to save and invest money. He loves me, and he isn't going anywhere. You don't get to talk about his choice to let his daughter be adopted. You don't know the history or how things are now. I'm not going to stand by and let you talk about my husband like he's some disgusting stray dog I picked up in an alley on Stark Street. If you're going to be a bitch about this, then I won't involve in you in my life anymore."_

" _I'm not going to sit by and hold my tongue when my daughter marries someone like that. How dare you talk to me that way!" my mother scolded._

" _Go fuck yourself." I said, ending the call._

"We'll be landing in a few minutes, Mr. and Mrs. Manoso," the pilot said over the loud speaker. "Please buckle up."

I wasn't actually Mrs. Manoso, but I didn't correct him. I hadn't been sure of what Ranger's reaction would be when I told him I wasn't going to change my last name, but he hadn't even blinked. He could be a bit macho and sometimes benevolently sexist, but at other times Ranger was surprisingly modern. He asked if the baby was going to have a hyphenated last name and I told him she was going to be a Manoso. Plum didn't hyphenate well with anything and I thought hyphenated names were pretentious anyway. He didn't say it, but I could tell he was relieved.

We landed at the airport in Newark and found a black Rangeman Escalade waiting for us in the lot reserved for charter flight pickups. A large blonde guy got out, nodded to Ranger and climbed into the passenger seat of a black Ford Explorer while Ranger loaded our bags into the back. We left the airport and headed towards an apartment Ranger kept in the city. He said it was a holdover from when he had first left the Army before he got into bond enforcement and moved to Trenton.

I had refused to go to Trenton for fear of being seen and word getting back to my mother that not only was I in town, but I was very pregnant. I had no intention of going to Thanksgiving dinner with my family, especially after my father, sister and grandmother had all called, not to congratulate me or reassure me that things would be resolved with my mother, but to lecture me for the way I had spoken to her. I could tell my father was likely being held at knifepoint by my mother as he spoke, so I hadn't been quite as angry with him. Grandma Mazur and Valerie had both attempted to smooth things over towards the end of their calls by saying that they were sure we could get through this, but I hadn't been interested. I had started ignoring everyone's calls at that point and when they started calling on a daily basis, I blocked their numbers.

We had been on the road for about fifteen minutes, fighting through Thanksgiving traffic when Ranger's cell phone rang through the car's Bluetooth. I saw on the display that it was my parent's phone number.

"Why is she calling you?" I asked. "How did she even get your number?"

Ranger pressed the button to answer the call before I could tell him to ignore it.

"Why isn't Stephanie taking my calls?" my mother asked in a short voice.

"Your last call didn't go well. I don't think she's ready to talk to you," he replied, lightly pressing a finger to my lips to indicate that I shouldn't say anything.

"You'd better not be keeping her away from us," my mother snapped. I opened my mouth to speak, but again Ranger stopped me.

"I don't control Stephanie. If she isn't speaking to you, it's because that's her choice." Ranger said calmly. I didn't understand how he could be so calm when she was being so accusatory towards him. My blood pressure was on the rise and when I felt the baby start squirming frantically, I knew I had to settle down and take a few deep breaths. I had noticed that she got exceptionally active when I was really emotional. I wasn't sure if it was something she could feel or if it was just the tones of voices in the room.

"Tell her I expect to see her at dinner tomorrow."

"I'll pass on the message," Ranger said. He disconnected the call before my head exploded.

"Has she lost her fucking mind?!" I yelled. "She thinks she can call you and accuse you of keeping me from her and then demand that I be at dinner tomorrow."

I ranted for several more minutes until Ranger pulled into a parking garage that I assumed belonged to his apartment building. I stopped long enough for us to go up to the apartment and get in the door.

"Why does she ," I began, but Ranger cut me off.

"Stop. Complaining about her isn't doing anything but raising your blood pressure."

"How can you be so calm about this?" I demanded as he took our bags into a decent-sized bedroom.

"Because I've always known her opinion of me and I don't care about it," he said. "As long as you love me and are happy with me, what does it matter? Why don't you talk to her and agree to put all of this behind you?"

I spluttered angrily for a few beats before I could form words. "What?! How can you say that?"

"Because you love your family," he said. "Even when you're pissed at them. We're having a baby in two months. You've spent the last five months planning to surprise them. Do you really intend to leave New Jersey on Sunday without seeing them?"

"Yes, I do," I said stubbornly, putting my hand on my hips. "I can't get past this easily. You're my husband and the father of my child. If they can't accept you, how can they accept her?"

"Why are you putting this on your entire family? Your mother was the only one who said anything negative."

"They were on her side!" I yelled. "They didn't congratulate me when they called. They lectured me on calling my mother a bitch and telling her to go fuck herself."

"That is pretty extreme, Babe."

I gave him a death glare. "So if your mother called me an ugly slut who wasn't good enough for you, you wouldn't get mad at her?"

"I would be upset, but I would correct her and tell her that I would talk to her when she could be more respectful," he said. "I wouldn't call her a bitch or tell her to go fuck herself. I'm attributing that to the pregnancy hormones because it doesn't seem like something you would normally do," he said.

He left the room before I could yell at him. I followed him out, but he turned around and stopped so quickly that I ran into him.

"I'm not going to let you take your anger with your mother out on me," he said. "I'm going to the store for a few things before they start closing. I expect to be treated better when I get back." He left the apartment without another word. I gave the closed door the finger.

I didn't find myself any calmer as the minutes passed. I explored the apartment and found it was a modest one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a galley kitchen and small living room. The furniture was in earth tones, not exceptionally stylish but comfortable. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and found a blanket in the bedroom closet. I changed into sweats and a t-shirt, plugged in my phone charger in the living room and turned out the lights to make it clear that I was sleeping on the couch. When Ranger came in a little after ten, I was laying on the couch watching television. I heard him putting things away in the kitchen and didn't turn my head his way when I sensed him watching me from the doorway. After a minute showdown, he came over and stood in front of my view of the television.

"Are you sleeping out here?" he asked.

"Yes."

He watched me for a beat before leaning over to kiss my forehead. "I love you, even when you're being unreasonable."

He headed off to the bedroom and I could hear him moving around for a few minutes before turning off the lights and getting into bed. I turned off the television and listened for any other sounds, but he was silent. No tossing and turning over his pregnant wife asleep on the couch. No crying because I was pissed off at him. Okay, I knew the crying would never happen, but was he really going to sleep soundly knowing I was angry with him?

I dozed off at some point in my annoyed musing and woke up shortly after one because my bladder had a baby sitting on it. I peeked into the bedroom on my way to the bathroom and on my way back to the living room. Ranger was asleep on his side, his left arm curled under his pillow. He hadn't moved while I was in the bathroom. I guess he could sleep soundly while I was angry enough to sleep in a different room.

My annoyance at him slow chipped away as I flitted in and out of sleep on the sofa. It would have been comfortable enough had I not been seven- months pregnant. But at the moment it wasn't wide enough for my extra girth and I had been sleeping with an extra pillow lately. In those times when I did wake up and remember that I wasn't asleep next to Ranger, I realized that he was right about my being unreasonable. He wanted me to fix things with my family because he knew it was hard for me not to see them. I had spoken to my mother and grandmother each on a weekly basis, sometimes more often than that, until my birthday. But I couldn't shake the anger and hurt I felt when I thought about how offensive her words had been. My mother had never treated me so badly, not even when I would sneak out of the house as a teenager or the day she found me passed out drunk on the front lawn. Or when Morelli had written about taking my virginity on bathroom walls around the Burg. She had always been critical to a degree and worried unnecessarily. What had changed? Was it me or her? I doubted I would figure that out tonight, but the one thing I could do was apologize to the only person who had my back.

It was a little after three when I walked into the bedroom with my pillow. I crawled into bed as easily I as could, which was no small feat considering I was the size of a baby hippopotamus. Ranger didn't move as I settled in next to him. I wasn't sure if he was still asleep or just ignoring me. I watched him for a while, planning my apology in my head for when we woke up in the morning. But it made me cry as I started thinking about it. Damn hormones. Ranger was right, they were getting the better of me. I didn't want to wait until morning. I sat up in bed and touched his arm.

"Carlos," I whispered. He woke up and rolled over to look at me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, instinctually putting a hand on my belly.

"I'm sorry," I said through sniffles. "You're the only family I have right now and I don't want you to hate me."

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You had me worried. I thought you were in labor," he said. He reached over and pulled me close. "I wasn't defending what your mother said. She shouldn't have said what she did or treated you like that. But I don't want you to feel like you have to hate your mother or keep your distance because of what she said about me. I've been hearing that kind of stuff most of my life. I've heard some of the same things from my own relatives and have even had some of those thoughts about myself. They don't bother me. Would it be better if your mother loved me as much as my mother loves you? Sure, but I don't expect it. We'll prove her wrong about what she thinks will happen. So if you're going to be angry with your mother, then be angry with how she treated you by not respecting your decisions for your own life and for what she said about you."

"But what she said about you is disrespectful to me," I argued. "You're my husband. She wouldn't put up with someone talking badly about my father."

"Babe, I've spent enough time around your family to know that isn't true. I've heard your father and grandmother speak pretty badly to and about each other and your mother hasn't done much of anything about it. At least from what I've seen," he said. "I think she has a different idea of what's acceptable behavior with family than you do."

I let that sink in for a minute and realized that he was right. How many times had I heard my father call my grandmother a crazy old bat or say that she was senile and needed to be put into a nursing home? And my grandmother had called my father all sorts of names, from horse's patoot to even one memorable occasion when she referred to him as 'that fucker'. My mother on occasion would put out an obligatory scold of _Mother!_ or _Frank!_ , but beyond that she never defended them to the other one or demanded that they stop treating each other so badly. I hadn't realized it until now because I had been used to it.

"Okay, I can see that. But I'm still not sure if I want to talk to her. She said I was reckless and irresponsible and unfit to raise children. Plus, her first thought was that I must be pregnant if I married you. I don't want her to know that I am pregnant, even though that wasn't why we got married."

Ranger kissed the top of my head. "I understand. Let's go to sleep."

Since we weren't going to my parents' house, we had Thanksgiving Day to stay at the apartment and relax. Ranger's family did Thanksgiving dinner on Friday because everyone was married and had in-laws who also expected to see them for dinner. That way no one had to do two dinners in one day. We spent the day relaxing while he did some paperwork and I multitasked between watching the Macy's parade and looking up Black Friday sales.

"Will you go Black Friday shopping with me?" I asked Ranger.

"No."

"Please? I could use a big strong man to watch my back. I'm worried about how crazy people get. I wouldn't want to get knocked over and get trampled to death. You'd miss me. We'd never have Serafina. Plus, the headlines in the news would be 'Pregnant Woman Trampled to Death While Shopping for Her Unborn Baby' and people would start asking why I'd been there alone."

"That's complete bullshit. You just want someone to carry your shopping bags and get you food while you wait in line," he replied without looking up from him computer.

"You would be wrong. I need someone to hold my place in lines because I have to pee every twenty minutes."

He didn't dignify that with a response.

I got up at four the next morning and started getting ready. I didn't have major plans because I didn't want to be on my feet for hours on end, but had plotted my route around one of the larger malls in the area. I was on the lookout for designer handbags, baby things and deals at Sephora.

I was surprised to find Ranger up, dressed and making breakfast when I went out to the living room half an hour later.

"I didn't mean to wake you," I said, accepting a plated omelet from him as I walked into the kitchen. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Shopping with you," he replied as he sat down next to me at the bar.

I stared at him open-mouthed. "You said no yesterday. You called me out on my bullshit excuse."

"Because you being afraid of going out there on your own is bullshit. But after you put that image in my head I've started worrying that it might actually happen. You tend to attract disaster."

"I love you." I said, leaning over to kiss him. "I'm going to make this up to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I agree. I was thinking you could repay me by doing that thing we did in Puerto Rico."

I laughed as I took a bite of the omelet. "No way. I still can't believe I let you do that. And I told you it is a once-a-year, very-special-occasion thing."

"You enjoyed it."

I wasn't going to admit that to him, or else he'd want to do it all the time.

"Not happening, but there's other stuff I'm willing to do. Besides, I think I read online that I'm not really supposed to do that while I'm pregnant."

"Babe."

I was excited and nervous as we approached Sofia's house later that day. Ranger had assured me that his family was going to be excited about the baby and after five months of listening to me go on about surprising them admitted to me that his family has a tradition of trying to out-do each other in the announcement of a new baby. I glared at him for at least a mile after that confession. He knew how competitive I could be and hadn't wanted to give me reason to up my game. But I decided against giving him shit for it. He had just spent five hours at the mall shopping with me, hadn't complained once and managed to not shoot himself or anyone else the entire time.

We pulled up to a large, two-story home with lots of windows and a professionally-landscaped yard. There were several cars already in the driveway. Ranger pulled in behind a black Camry and we climbed out. I was wearing a blue knit dress that showed off my bump, but purposely wore my coat and scarf in a way that hid my belly if you weren't looking too hard. I wanted to do the reveal in front of as many people as possible. Ranger knocked once and opened the door into a large entryway. I could hear voices coming from the back of the house and we followed the noise. Ranger helped me out of my coat, which I slung over my arm and carried in front of my belly to look like I was just casually holding it. We walked down a hallway that opened to a large open-concept family room and dining room. There was a long table set for fourteen in the dining room along with a small child's table set up not far away. The kitchen was to the left and I could see another table set up in the center of the room, presumably for the big kids. Women were talking in Spanish and men were sitting on the couch and chairs watching television.

"Carlos and Stephanie are here," Lola announced. She was wearing a flowery apron over a pretty green dress and stopped at the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

"It's great to finally meet you," one woman said. "I'm Celia, Carlos' older sister. Since he has forgotten how to introduce people."

Ranger rolled his eyes and pointed out each of his sisters and their respective husband, his brother and sister-in-law and a couple of the nearby children.

"And as everyone has figured out, this is Stephanie," Ranger said. Celia nodded her approval.

"And this," I said, moving my coat to reveal my huge belly. "Is the soon-to-be Serafina Manoso."

The women in the room, with the exception of Aurelia, lost their collective minds.

"Oh, my God!" Lola said, staring at my belly as though it was an enormous diamond. "How did you keep this a secret?" She gave Ranger a light smack on the face. "You," she said before tightly embracing him. I winced at him.

"That's how we show love around here," he assured me.

I was next to be hugged by Lola, though thankfully not smacked. The women asked a million questions ranging from when I was due and how my pregnancy had been progressing. They told me I looked beautiful, talked about their own experiences and embraced me as though they had known me for years. I became so overwhelmed with emotion at one point that I excused myself with a joke about a pregnant lady's bladder and went to the bathroom to cry. I was amazed at the reception I was receiving. It was though they had unknowingly been making up for the love and support I wasn't getting from my own family. I wondered what they were doing today. My mother hadn't called Ranger's phone when I didn't show up for dinner. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Babe." Ranger's voice came through the bathroom door. I opened the door and walked out into the hall. "Are you okay?" 

I nodded. "Just got a little emotional. Hormones, you know."

I didn't have to explain to him why I was emotional. He hugged me and kissed the top of my head. "They like you. And this is what they are always like, so you'd better brace yourself."

I laughed and checked out my reflection in the hallway mirror. I had managed to keep the puffy eyes at bay, so I didn't look bad. "They're wonderful. Well, Aurelia is different, but she's still nice."

"She's weird, but we love her anyway."

Dinner was a wonderful mixture of Cuban and American foods. Conversation flowed around the table in a mixture of Spanish and English. Ranger reminded them that I didn't speak Spanish with anything resembling conversational level skills, so they tried to keep anything that would interest me in English. I learned that while Grandma Rosa didn't speak English, she understood it fine.

The men were on clean-up duty while the women relaxed after a busy afternoon of cooking. Sofia found a photo album from childhood and shared photos of a young Carlos Manoso starting in his infancy and up to a picture of him in his formal Army uniform. I pulled out the 4-D ultrasound photos we had been given at the last ultrasound appointment and compared the shots of the baby's face to pictures of Ranger when he was a baby. There was already a strong resemblance, even through the grainy sepia of the ultrasound photo.

Celia had insisted on playing an off-brand version of The Newlywed Game that she had found at a garage sale. She had sent her parents away, citing the fact that some questions were about sex and there were certain things children and their parents didn't need to know about one another. Aurelia and her husband had said they needed to be going back to Manhattan and had left with their young daughter, Vivienne before they could be roped into playing. We were each given a holder that had lined paper inside and a pencil. Each person looked at the card of ten questions posted at the top and answered each question how they believed their spouse would answer it. Each couple answered the same questions, but every couple had a different set of questions. Once closed, the contraption allowed only one answer to be revealed at a time. Given that there were so many of us, one round would take a while. The winners got to be lazy and have bragging rights while the runners-up had to bring everyone dessert. The losers of the group had to do shots for every question they got wrong with a maximum of four shots. I was going to be exempt from any punishment if we lost since I couldn't do shots, but Ranger insisted that I could eat vegetables. I gave him the finger.

Once everyone had answered their questions, the couple who had been married the longest got to go through their answers first and it would go backwards so that the people who were married the shortest amount of time went last. That was us. Celia and her husband, Andres, went first and scored a total of fourteen out of twenty possible points. Sofia and Tony were next, scoring twelve. Emilio and his wife Lucy managed six, though two answers had been put through a group vote on whether they counted as points. Silvia and her husband Caleb scored sixteen points and took the lead before it finally ended with us.

"Okay, newlyweds," Celia said cheerfully. "Let's see how well you know each other."

The first question was _What kind of pet did your spouse have growing up, if any? Bonus point for remembering the name._

"I have no clue if you had a pet growing up," I said, revealing my question mark for the response.

"We had a dachshund named Pogo," Ranger replied. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "And I remember you saying you had a cat named Katherine."

My eyes widened. "I can't believe you remembered that."

Ranger shrugged. "You told me once you always do a double take when you see a cat that looks like her."

I squeezed his hand and his brother made a cough that sounded a lot like "pussy-whipped". His wife smacked him in the back of the head.

We got the next two questions right, correctly naming each other's most often used cuss words. His was _shit_ and mine was _damn._ We also correctly guessed that my most annoying habit was my nosiness and his was his diet. We got the next question wrong, which asked us to use a movie title to describe our first time having sex. I had said _Indecent Proposal_. Ranger had said he didn't watch enough movies to come up with anything, but thought my answer fit. We had steadfastly refused to elaborate on it. I learned that a trait I shared with his mother was that we were both ridiculously stubborn and he got it right when he said that he and my father were both men of few words. The understatement of the century. We got the next two questions wrong, which asked about guilty pleasures and the one word we each used to describe ourselves. The final question had been the same for everyone: how many sexual partners has your spouse had.

I had no freaking clue. I wasn't even sure if Ranger knew. I had written down a number, hoping that I wasn't insulting him.

"What the number, Stephanie?" Celia asked. I tried not to blush. Sex wasn't my favorite conversational subject.

"Eight," I said. That had been higher than the rest of the women in the room. Celia nodded for Ranger to reveal his answer. He had written down the number eight.

"Have I told you that before?" I asked, trying to remember.

"Just a lucky guess," he said. He glanced in Celia's direction and let out a small sigh as she watched him expectantly.

"I don't know the exact number," he said, avoiding eye contact with his eldest sister. That elicited a laugh from the men. "I'm going to say around eighty-five."

"Hot damn!" I said, revealing my answer of eighty-five. I kissed him soundly. "Normally that number would make my head hurt, but I'm excited for it at the moment." We had scored thirteen points, which meant we didn't get to be lazy, but I also didn't have to eat vegetables either.

It was midnight before we made it back to the apartment. I was exhausted, but had thoroughly enjoyed myself.

"That was great," I said to him as we undressed. "I love your family." A knot that had been threatened to form in my chest all evening finally took root. "I wish my family were like them."

"They never will be," he said. He pulled me close to him as we climbed into bed. "But the good news is that they're your family now too."

That was good news, especially since I still had no desire to see my own parents and sister.

"Do you have enough energy to work on repaying me for the shopping trip?" he asked, sliding a hand between my thighs. I felt myself go damp.

"Oh, I think I can manage a down payment, at the very least."


	25. Chapter 25

**December**

"I thought we would be learning how to do this stuff on dolls," I said as I gingerly held a three-week-old baby in my arms. The baby was looking up at me with unfocused eyes and I was pretty sure she had started to poop her pants.

Ranger's parents had flown back to Miami with us after Thanksgiving and on the flight down we had discussed all things baby. Well, Lola and I had discussed all things baby and Ranger was frequently dragged into the conversation against his will. She had informed us that we should take a parenting class that would teach things like changing diapers, bottle feeding, bathing, swaddling and all kinds of other things that first-time parents need to learn. Ranger had refused to go to a class, saying we could just learn everything via YouTube videos or hands-on once the baby was born. Lola had rolled her eyes and offered to teach us in the privacy of our own home. He had been okay with that, though now that we had an actual baby in the house and not the dolls we had assumed would be used for practice he was looking as though he regretted taking her up on her offer. The baby girl was the daughter of one of Ranger's cousins, Carolina.

"Dolls are not a good substitute for the real thing," Lola said. "I knew Carolina had just had Mira and I asked if she would let you two practice on her."

Carolina was sitting on the couch in the living room watching television. Mira was her third child, so she wasn't concerned about letting two inexperienced people handle her, just grateful for the break. Lola's first lesson had been out how to properly hold a baby. She had demonstrated cradling her in her arms and how to safely hold the baby against your chest while supporting its neck. Mira seemed to be cool with everything because she hadn't started crying yet. The smell that hit my nose a minute later was not pleasant.

"I think she needs a new diaper," I said, trying to give her back to Lola. But Lola shook her head and began digging through a diaper bag for supplies. She laid out a plastic mat, a packet of wipes, a new diaper and a container of cornstarch on the kitchen table and indicated that I should lay the baby on the mat. I was instructed step-by-step on how to change the diaper, which smelled so bad that I nearly threw up. Lola threw the diaper in the outside garbage while I finished powdering and strapping up the new diaper.

"That's pretty good, Stephanie," Lola said after inspecting my work. "Just make sure you have the diaper pulled up high enough and secured at the waist or else everything will leak out onto the baby's clothes."

"Great," I said, undoing and redoing the straps on the diaper to make it more secure. "That sounds like a blast."

Once I had done up the baby's clothing and washed my hands, Ranger was given the opportunity to feed her a bottle.

"Are you planning to nurse or use formula?" Lola asked.

I shrugged. "I figured I would try the breast-feeding thing at first. I wasn't sure what I would do once I went back to work since I work twelve hour shifts. Does it really matter?"

"You'll hear from the hospital that 'breast is best', but honestly, a fed baby is the only thing that matters," she said. "Some women can't breast feed for whatever reason. Others aren't comfortable doing it or simply don't want to. Each one has its pros and cons and some people choose to do a mixture of the two. You do what is best for your family and don't listen to anyone who wants to tell you otherwise unless the doctor is saying there is a strict medical reason for it. I breast-fed three of my children and the other three were formula-fed. They are all equally intelligent, healthy people."

I had made the mistake of scrolling through a pregnancy group on Facebook a while back and had learned quickly how vicious women were to each other on everything from breast-feeding to the time you start facing a kid forward in their car seat and where they sleep. I had quickly left the page and vowed to never look at anything like it again after one woman had told another that she didn't deserve to be a mother and that she should give her baby up for adoption after the second woman said she had stopped breast-feeding her two month-old because it was exhausting and she hated being the only one who could feed the baby.

Lola showed us how to heat a bottle in a warmer that Carolina had brought from their house. The baby was formula-fed, so we learned how to mix the formula and test the liquid temperature on the inside of our wrist before feeding it to the baby. Ranger managed to look both natural and unnatural as he sat at the kitchen table holding a baby in the crook of his arm and a bottle in the other. My badass husband, all in black, holding a tiny baby girl in a yellow dress. Lola explained to me that someone called a lactation consultant would help me learn how to breast-feed once the baby was born.

Once the baby was burped and any vomit wiped away with a towel, she showed us how to give a baby a bath. It turned out Mira didn't like baths, so she screamed the entire time until we managed to get her into a little pair of pajamas with a giraffe on the front, though Ranger had been the one to diaper her since I had done the last one. His wasn't nearly so unpleasant. The last trick had been swaddling. Who knew wrapping a baby up like a burrito at Chipotle could be so difficult?

Another area of contention for Ranger had been decorating the nursery, which would be in the bedroom next door to ours. I had been scrolling through Pinterest looking for decorating ideas that weren't nauseating. I couldn't imagine Ranger rocking our daughter to sleep in a bedroom that looked like it had been sponsored by Pepto-Bismol. I had wanted his input on the décor, but he hadn't been remotely interested. He said we should just hire a decorator to do it. I said that just because you could do something that it didn't mean you should. After it hit me that I had just sounded like my mother, I asked if he had any suggestions on decorators.

I had been given a name and number to a woman named Gillian, who had decorated his apartment at Rangeman. She had come to the house on the first Friday of the month and taken pictures of the room before showing me several initial designs she had created before coming to the house. She did some tweaking based on the room size and shape and my preferences. Minimal pink, no chandeliers, no ridiculous animals. She ultimately created three different designs, emailed them to me and told me to let her know which I liked once I had shown them to Ranger. I knew he didn't care, but I refused to be the only one making decisions.

"Just look at all of them and tell me which one you like the best," I said later that night as we got settled in bed. "You can veto certain things if you like the room overall, but don't like one item or color."

I gave him my most determined look and waited until he scooted closer to me in order to see the images on the computer. I showed him the first room, which was done in a combination of pastel green and white with black silhouettes on the walls, black furniture, and a white rug in the middle of the room. Once he had finished examining it, he indicated that I should move onto the next one. The second was done in a combination of gray and white walls and furniture with subtle pink accents in the décor. The last one was my personal favorite, though I didn't share that opinion with him while he was examining it. It had light purple walls, dark wood furniture, and various shades of purple and white accents. I was excited when he said he liked the last one. I quickly sent an email off to Gillian before either of us could change our minds.

"You're lucky you're married to the boss," Tyler Mason said to me several days later. "Anyone else would be fired for falling asleep on monitor duty."

I had been on General Security for two weeks since the students had returned from Thanksgiving break and it had been the longest two weeks of my life. I no longer worked the grueling twelve-hour days spent on my feet, but spent eight-hour shifts, five days a week sitting on my ass watching monitors for students trying to sneak out or lunatics trying to sneak in. The tedium was so bad that I fell asleep at least twice each shift. Paul had clearly noticed this and always had someone else watching monitors with me since I was unreliable.

"He owes me," I said, running a hand over my huge belly. "I'm growing his kid."

There were only seven more work days until the students left for Christmas break, at which time I would officially be on maternity leave until mid-March. The idea of not working for three months was both exciting and terrifying because of the reason why I was going to be off. The ability to binge watch more television and sleep late would be wonderful until the baby inside me decided it was time to come out. I wasn't sure if I was more nervous about the childbirth process or the parenting that I had to learn afterwards.

I was thankful when the next shift rolled in at four and I could leave for the day. Gillian had moved fast on the nursery and said the painting would be finished today when I got off work. I needed to give it the thumbs up before she started bringing in the furniture. It took me a few minutes to get off the campus due to the amount of people being picked up after study groups and sports practice and the teachers leaving for the day. As I drove my usual path around the golf course that was the halfway point between MPA and our house, I saw a black Ford Explorer pulled over with its emergency flashers on. The passenger side door was open and I recognized Mr. Hatch from the school leaning against it. He waved at me as I approached him. I pulled over in front of his car and climbed out.

"Are you okay, Mr. Hatch?" I asked when I reached him. He was clutching his chest and looked like he was sweating. He was still leaning against the back door and pointed a shaking hand at the front seat.

"I have nitro," he panted. "I was trying to open it when I felt the pain come on and dropped the bottle between the seats."

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" I asked.

"No, I just need my medicine. I'll be fine," he said.

I walked over to the passenger side and leaned over the best I could with my belly in the way. I couldn't see into the area between the passenger's and driver's seats, but started feeling around with my hand. I yanked my hand away when I felt a sharp sting on the right side of my neck.

"Ow," I said. I awkwardly straightened up as I held my hand to my neck. "I think I got stung by a bee."

It only took one look at Hatch to realize that I was in trouble. He was no longer clutching his chest and there was something that looked like an epi-pen syringe in his hand. His expression was not the usual avuncular smile, but one of cold calculation.

"What did you ," I began, but my mouth suddenly felt like it wouldn't work properly anymore and my vision began to blur. I heard Hatch say something and the back door on the passenger side of the car opened. A young guy climbed out and the two men pulled me into the back seat. I tried to fight them, but found my body not wanting to work the way my brain wanted it to. I was laid down on the floor in the back and the last thing I remembered was the younger guy throwing a blanket over me.

I briefly regained semi-consciousness at different points, but the minute I moaned or attempted to move, the lights went out again. My vision had been too blurry to see anything useful on the one occasion that I had managed to open my eyes, but I had been able to tell that I was still in a vehicle and it was dark outside. When I was finally allowed to regain full consciousness, I was lying on something soft and staring at a florescent light attached to a concrete ceiling. I could hear quiet voices around me and a woman's face slowly came into focus next to me. It was Macy Reichenbach.

"Aren't you Stephanie from the school?" she asked quietly, seeming as amazed to see me as I as to see her. I nodded slowly, my head spinning from the simple movement.

"Where am I?" I croaked. My mouth and throat were so dry it almost made me gag.

"I'm not sure exactly," she said. She helped me sit up and handed me a bottle of water with a straw. "Here, drink this."

I took a few more minutes to allow the world to stop spinning around me and to quench my thirst before I started to process information. Macy was enormously pregnant and dressed in a blue t-shirt and black sweat pants. She looked like she might be further along than I was.

"How are you still pregnant?" I asked. "You should have had the baby a long time ago."

Her eyes filled with tears. "How did you know I was pregnant?"

I gave her a brief explanation of what had happened in her absence, including the FBI investigation into her disappearance once I had started to believe her disappearance was linked to Talia's suicide and Amelia's botched abortion.

"I had a miscarriage a couple of months after they brought me here," she said. "I think it was a couple of months. I don't know anymore. I just know I started bleeding and having a bunch of pain and they gave me pills to complete the miscarriage. Once I recovered, he started raping me so I would get pregnant again." She rubbed her belly absentmindedly. "They say I'm due in a couple of weeks."

While she had been talking, I had been taking in the surroundings. The room appeared to be made entirely of concrete with one metal door at the far end and no windows. There were eight beds in the room. Each had its own small dresser at the foot of the bed. There were four beds on each long wall that were grouped close enough together to allow for a seating area and what looked like bathrooms at the end opposite the metal door. There were six other women in the room with us. A couple were sitting up in bed talking to each other and glancing in my direction. One looked like she might be about five or six months along. The other looked a little further along, but not as big as me. Two more women were sitting at a table at the far end of the room playing cards. The other two were lying in their respective beds.

"What is this place?" I asked. "Are they selling babies on the black market?"

Macy nodded. "They don't just take you when you're pregnant and let you go when you have the baby. They keep breeding you like a dog." She indicated a brunette woman at the table. "April has been here the longest. Ten years, she thinks. They took her when she was fifteen and had gotten pregnant by her boyfriend. Her parents had kicked her out of the house and she had nowhere to go. She went to a center for help and thought she was coming to a home to stay until the baby was born. She has been kept in four different places, but has been here the longest. She thinks it has been about four years now. She only knows time by how many pregnancies she has had and by asking the new women what month and year it was when they were taken. She's pregnant with her twelfth baby. She has had two sets of twins."

I was horrified as Macy continued to talk about each woman's history in a detached voice that told me anything child-like left in her before she had been taken from her home in Minnesota had since died. The other woman at the table with April was named Joan. She was in her late-thirties and looked like she had lead a rough life. She had been working as a prostitute in Los Angeles and addicted to heroin when she had gotten pregnant. She had been lured into the group with promises of big money for her baby. Instead she had been held hostage for so long that she had stopped seeing it as a problem. An African-American woman called LaShay, who had been part of the duo looking in my direction, had been held for around eight years and was on her eight pregnancy. The other half of the pair was a white woman Macy said was nicknamed Mouse because she had a high-pitched, squeaky voice. She had been the last woman abducted before Macy. She was currently three months pregnant with twins. Macy didn't know much about the two women who were in bed, only that their names were Cody and Izzie. They didn't talk to anyone and didn't seem to show any emotion either when they gave birth or when they were raped and impregnated.

"Who is doing all of this?" I asked. "How did you get taken?" 

Macy let out a heavy sigh and got comfortable at the foot of my bed. "I thought he really liked me. I knew it was wrong, since he was an adult and I wasn't eighteen yet, but I didn't care. I didn't think anyone would ever find out."

"Who?"

"Dr. Shaughnessy, Paul Shaughnessy. Well, that's not his real name, but it's the name he used at the center. I've heard them call him Jason since I was brought here."

Damn it. A doctor at the pregnancy center using a false name. I wondered if the FBI knew. God, I hoped they did.

"Did you know Mr. Hatch was involved?" I asked. "He injected me with something and I figure that Jason guy is the one who helped him get me into the back of his car."

Macy shook her head. "Not until I saw him here one day a while ago. He's married to the doctor that stays here all the time. He called him Larry. Jason isn't here all the time. He has to go out and find new women when beds open up."

I felt my stomach spasm. "Why do beds open up? Do women escape?"

Macy shook her head darkly. "No. No one escapes. Several women have tried. Some were killed, but others have been hurt pretty bad to keep them from trying it again. LaShay tried once and they broke both of her ankles. April tried twice and they broke one arm and one leg so she couldn't walk or drag herself anywhere. Another woman tried when they were at the place before this one and they kept her tied to the bed until she had the baby." She looked close to tears at this point. "The woman who had slept here before you had tried to escape right before her baby was born. She had tried to run away during her outdoor time. They shot her in the back, dragged her back in the room and then cut the baby out of her right there on the floor." She pointed to the middle of the aisle between the rows of beds. "She had screamed from the pain and after they got the baby out they left her there to bleed to death. We all tried to help her, but there wasn't anything we could do."

I wanted to vomit. I wanted to cry. I wrapped my arms protectively over my belly. "What happens to the babies after they are born?"

"They have adoptive parents lined up beforehand. The second the baby is born it's taken away. They never even get to see them or hold them," she said, rubbing a hand over her belly. "I don't want them to take her from me. Even though I was forced, I still don't want them to give her to strangers."

"We'll figure this out," I whispered. "We'll get out of here."

Macy snorted softly. "What makes you think you're any different than all of these women?"

"This isn't the first time I've been kidnapped."

Macy showed me that there were clothes in the dresser at the foot of the bed that I could wear. Sweat pants and t-shirts like everyone else. I held out for two days, refusing to take off the clothes I had worn to work, but eventually the desire to feel clean won out. There was a shower stall in the corner of the room and I was able to get clean and put on a pair of navy pants and a pink t-shirt. It felt like wearing someone else's skin. Food was brought in three times a day by a tall, gray-haired man that I was told was Larry, the doctor. We were each left with two bottles of water at every meal. The food was bland, but healthy. We were given prenatal vitamins at breakfast each morning. Larry would come in at various points and tell certain women that it was time for their check-up or that they were due for their outdoor time.

"When do I get outdoor time?" I asked Larry when he came for Macy on the fourth day since I had been taken. At least I thought it was the fourth day. I was only going on the amount of meals I had eaten.

"You'll get it after you've been here a week," he said blandly. "You have to get used to being here first."

I heaved a sigh and plopped back down on my bed. While everyone had been asleep the night before, I had remembered something important. Something that could not only save my life, but everyone else's. Ever since Ranger had moved in with me, I had been wearing the watch that had the GPS-enabled panic button. We had joked that it was my labor watch. I had pressed the button last night, praying that I would see the plus sign come on that meant it was transmitting, but nothing had happened. I figured the concrete walls must be preventing the watch from sending a signal. I had considered trying to slip it to Macy and telling her what to do, but was afraid of getting caught. It was obvious that a couple of the women had developed Stockholm Syndrome. They were kind and even grateful to Larry whenever he came into the room. They talked to him like he was their father. I knew it would have to wait until it was my turn to go outside, which apparently was going to be a few more days. I just hoped Macy didn't go into labor and have her baby before I could try to get us help. I told Serafina quietly not to get any crazy ideas about coming early because we had stuff to do first. I had decided to take her kick as a sign that she understood.

I had talked to a couple other women in the days since I had woken up there. LaShay reminded me of Lula, complete with attitude and she had even managed to add personal flair to the unofficial uniform we all had. Mouse, it turned out, was also from New Jersey. She had grown up in Atlantic City and been in and out of foster care her entire life. I learned that she had been married to an abusive husband and had fled when she found out she was pregnant. She had gone to a crisis pregnancy center in Philadelphia, where she had met Jason, who had gone by Mark Planter there.

I kept myself busy by playing cards with Macy or trying to read some of the beaten up old paperbacks on a shelf in the common area while I brainstormed ways to escape. My mind frequently went back to Ranger and the horror he must be feeling. The thought of him looking for me, desperate to find me before our baby was born and given away to the highest-bidder, would bring tears to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had been told there were cameras in the room that watched us and I refused to let these assholes see me cry. I had discovered the furniture was secured to the floors. Even the chairs, which were on sliders that allowed us to move them back and forth to get up and scoot closer to the table, but not pick them up.

"Where do you think we are?" I asked Macy later that day after dinner. They always turned off the lights at nine o'clock, forcing everyone to go to sleep at the same time.

"I don't know for sure. I know we aren't in Florida or Minnesota. We're in the mountains and there are tons of trees. It's December but it isn't too cold. They give you a coat to wear when you go outside, but it isn't a heavy one like I would have to wear at home in the winter. Mouse said she heard Larry talking to Jason once about going to Gatlinburg, so she thinks we might be in Tennessee. "

Damn. I wasn't surprised about being taken out of state considering I had memories of being in a car at night, but I hadn't imagined I had been out that long. It had to be at least a fourteen-hour trip to southern Tennessee from Miami. That likely meant I needed to add another day to my estimated time in captivity.

On what I had calculated as the seventh day, I was summoned by Larry for a check-up. I had begrudgingly followed him out of the room and scanned my surroundings as we walked down a windowless, concrete hall. I passed two closed metal doors on the left and was guided into a room on the right. It looked like my obstetrician's office, complete with ultrasound machine, exam table and various medical supplies in cabinets

"Take off your pants and put your feet into the stirrups," Larry said, indicating the exam table.

"No way," I said. I barely noticed the movement and didn't realize what was happening until after he had smacked me.

"That's one extra day until you get outdoor time. Do as you're told," he said coldly.

Not wanting to risk losing more opportunities to go outside, I took off my pants and climbed onto the table. I put my feet in the stirrups and closed my eyes as he inserted two fingers into me and pressed on my belly.

"How far along are you? What is your due date?" he asked after he had removed his hand and pulled out a tape measure. He measured my belly from top to bottom the way my doctor did every time. After making a note he turned on the ultrasound machine and ran the wand over my belly, though I couldn't see the screen.

"I was thirty-four weeks when your asshole of a husband kidnapped me," I said sourly. "I don't know exactly how long I've been here, but my doctor said I'm due on January eighteenth."

He made a note on a piece of paper once he had finished the ultrasound. "You can put your pants back on."

I quickly did so and sat back down on the exam table to wait for my next instructions.

"How was the baby conceived?" he asked, filling out a form on a clipboard.

"The same way most babies are conceived," I retorted.

"I'm going to assume that means naturally without medical intervention," he noted, not giving any indication that he appreciated my sarcasm. "Do you have any history of physical or mental health conditions?"

"Physical, no. The mental part will depend on who you ask."

"Family history?"

"I'm not answering that. You aren't giving my baby away."

Larry looked up at me and gave a small shake of his head. "You aren't the first to say that, and you won't be the last. But just like all the rest, you're wrong."

"How did you know I was suspicious of the center?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

I hesitated. "I was suspicious that something was going on at the crisis pregnancy center, since three girls who had volunteered there had ended up pregnant."

"And with whom did you share these concerns?" he asked. I had gotten to him, but now I was afraid of what might happen if I pushed too hard and scared him.

"The headmistress at the school," I said. "But she thought I was insane and told me as much."

I noticed his posture relax visibly. "I had no idea that anyone was suspicious."

"Then why did you take me?"

"For the money," he answered as though I had just asked him the color of the sun. "Charles said you would be an easy target. You liked him, you were caring, and that it would be easy to get to you. He was right. I had been against it when he wanted to fill-in for the fall semester to keep an eye on you, but it seems like it will be a big pay-off. He said the father of your baby is Latino. Mixed-race babies are easier to sell because they can be sold either domestically or internationally."

Anger flared through me and I tried to kick him, but Larry was fast for his age. He jumped back out of the way, went over the cabinet on the wall and opened a drawer. He pulled out a scalpel and walked back to me. I tried to get out of the room, but he grabbed me, shoved me up against a cabinet, forced my left hand up over my head, and drove the scalpel through my palm and into the wooden cabinet behind me. The pain shot me like fire and I screamed.

"Say you're sorry," he said in a sing-song voice. God, this man was a lunatic.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered and screamed again when he yanked the scalpel out of my palm. I cradled my wounded palm against my chest once he freed me from his grip.

"Sit down on the table," he said coldly, as though a switch had been flipped inside him. "You'll need stitches."

My breath came in shuddered gasps as I let him stitch up my hand on both sides. He put gauze on top of the stitches and wrapped my hand with more gauze that was secured with surgical tape.

"We'll try this again in two days," he said, as though he were just my regular doctor giving me advice. "If you cooperate, you'll get to go outdoors. If not, I'll start cutting off your fingers. You don't need them to be pregnant."

He gave me what looked like Tylenol for the pain and sent me back to the room. Macy's eyes widened when she saw my hand. I told her what I had done as I sat back down on my bed and fought tears. Two more days until I could activate my watch. Two more days of Ranger wondering where I was. Two more days I risked Macy having her baby taken away from her. All because I couldn't fucking listen.

The next two days passed with agonizing pain. I was given Tylenol twice a day, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't move my palm too much without it screaming and I wasn't sure if there was just tissue damage or if any bones were broken. Once the two days had passed, I was taken back to the exam room, though spared another invasive exam and ultrasound. He had the clipboard out once more and I answered his questions about my family medical history, what I knew of Ranger's family medical history and about the progression of my pregnancy.

"You learn quickly," he said and handed me a gray wool coat. "You have ten minutes outdoors. If you scream, I'll break your jaw. If you try to run away, I'll shoot you and cut your baby out of you while you lay dying. It would be fine to be born at this point. A little small, but I don't see any problems otherwise."

I nearly gagged at the thought. I gingerly put the coat on and followed him down the hallway, away from the room where I was normally kept. He pushed open the door at the end and the hazy winter sun hurt my eyes, even though it wasn't especially bright. There was a small section of yard that had been cleared of trees. I could see mountains in the distance higher than our elevation. It was chilly, but not unbearably cold. I pressed the small button on my watch and managed to sneak a glance at the face. The plus sign came on in the corner that indicated it was transmitting, but I noticed another indicator flashing. Low battery. Shit. The watch had been sitting in a box for almost two years when I had put it on back in the spring. It had been used as a panic button once before and that probably put a lot of strain on the battery as it emitted both GPS and audio signals.

"Where are we?" I asked Larry as he stood in the doorway.

"It doesn't matter," he replied coolly.

I shrugged. "I haven't traveled very much. I like the mountains."

"Just shut up and walk," he said. "Or you'll go back inside."

I walked around the open area, glancing at my watch whenever I got the chance. It lasted about five minutes before the face went blank. I suppressed a sob and prayed that the signal had reached Rangeman. I wasn't sure if there was a range limit on the signal. If we were in the south like Mouse thought, it would hopefully be picked up by the Atlanta office. Hopefully they knew it was mine and would contact Ranger. After a few more minutes, I was told my time was up and headed back inside the concrete building.

 _ **A/N: Even when she tries to avoid it, trouble still finds our girl.**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Ranger's POV**_

 **Day 1**

"Mr. Manoso, do you know of any reason why your wife would walk away from her car?" The police officer asked as we stood next to Stephanie's Cayenne. It had been found abandoned and still running on the side of the road an hour after she left the school. The police had opened the car, found her purse and phone still inside and had called me after running her registration and seeing me listed as her emergency contact. I had been on my way home early that day, as she had wanted me to check out the nursery with her. I hadn't want to do it and had been mildly annoyed that she had wanted me to interrupt my work day to literally watch paint drying. My stomach had clenched when the police called to say they had found her car, her purse and phone, but not her. My first call was to the decorator at the house, who said she hadn't seen or heard from Stephanie, but had been expecting her home like I was. Next I called my mother. If Stephanie had needed help and for whatever reason didn't want to call one of my men or me, she would have called my mother. My mother told me she hadn't heard from Stephanie. After that I put my men to work on finding her while I went to the location of the car. I had also called Special Agent Melton.

"No," I said. "She's thirty-four weeks pregnant. If she had a problem, she'd call me. She's less than ten minutes from her job site and about five minutes from home. She wouldn't have left the car without her purse or phone unless someone made her leave them behind."

The officer looked up from his notes. "You think she has been abducted?"

"I do. She gave information to the police and FBI regarding concerns about a potential human trafficking operation being run at least partly out of Miami. They've been investigating using her information." I gave the officer the number for Special Agent Melton. "I called him after I spoke to you. He said he was on his way."

The officer taking notes was a young man, maybe two years out of the academy. An older officer was talking on the phone several feet away. "Sir, we can't file a missing person's report unless she has been gone over forty-eight hours. There's no sign of a struggle."

I was about to open my mouth to protest when the older officer walked over. "Yes, we can. She's pregnant and pretty far along at that. It counts as a serious medical condition in my book. We can go ahead and put out an APB. Plus, the Lieutenant just told me that the FBI called and wants to get involved because they think this might be related to one of their cases."

The younger officer nodded and began talking into his mic. The older officer informed me that we needed to let the car be processed as a crime scene before I could move it or her things. I was numb, praying that she would show up somewhere and that there would be a logical explanation. The younger officer proceeded to walk over to the country club to see if anyone had noticed anything. The older officer stayed with me and took more information about Stephanie. My mother called twice in half an hour to check in. Special Agent Melton showed up and informed me that the local police had been happy to let the FBI take the lead.

"Have you found out anything useful?" I asked. I hadn't been in contact with Melton since the meeting we had with him back in September. Dr. Turner's nerves had lasted one more community service weekend at the center before she pulled it from the school's list of approved sites. She told Melton she couldn't risk the students' safety, told the students that the center didn't have enough work for them to do and told the center that they were cutting back on the number of places offered. The FBI had said they would be in contact if they had any questions.

"We've checked out four people at the center. All but one turned up clean. The fourth one was into dealing cocaine, so we forwarded that on to the locals. The center now knows we've been investigating and is cooperating completely. We've recently started investigating a doctor, Paul Shaughnessy," Melton said, consulting notes on his phone. "He had been working at the center for the past two years doing exams and deliveries. They have a rotation of ten doctors and nurse practitioners who volunteer their time to do routine check-ups for the women who need it and do on-call rotations for deliveries. One guy is the supervising physician, but mainly just so that the center has someone with admitting privileges to the local hospitals. Everyone else works under him. Most do one day a week and all but Shaughnessy lived in Florida. Shaughnessy would fly in from Louisville, Kentucky on the second and fourth Thursdays of the month, be on-call Thursday nights, work and be-on call Fridays and Saturdays, and then be on-call Sunday until noon when another doctor would take over."

"No one found it odd that a guy from Kentucky would fly to Miami twice a month for a volunteer position? There have to be similar places in Louisville," I commented.

"That's what I said. He told them he came to visit family and figured it worked out. But he abruptly quit coming back in March, after the Van Goethe girl botched her abortion. The people at the clinic had been pretty surprised by it and said it really put them in a bind because they had no one to cover for him. We didn't know about him until recently because he had been gone for so long. We started digging into his background and found out that Dr. Paul Shaughnessy, OB/GYN in Louisville doesn't exist. The background was deep enough for the standard employment background check, but fell apart when we started digging into him. His Florida medical license is a forgery, which is impressive on his end and concerning on the center's end. Someone didn't do their homework and get it directly from the licensing board, but just accepted Shaughnessy's own copy. We've been checking out travel records and would find flights into Miami only every fourth trip and never any outgoing flights. We've checked with major rental car companies, bus companies and trains, but nothing under that name."

"So he's using multiple aliases for travel," I said. "Which means he may be running this con somewhere else as well. Have you been able to check out airport security feeds to catch him leaving town?"

"The airport keeps security CCTV feeds for six months. He left in March and we didn't start looking into him until last week, so the footage is gone. We have a copy of a Florida driver's license that we are running through facial recognition software. So far we've found three other aliases. Jason Mitchell from Charlotte, North Carolina, Mark Painter from Philadelphia and Tucker Owens from Mobile, Alabama. We aren't finding much on any of them, but we're still doing the work." He looked around at the team from the local FBI office that had arrived to process the car. "I've looked into you and know your background," Melton said quietly. "You do your thing and I'll do mine. We'll share anything we have if it seems important. Agreed?"

I had agreed and was told I should be able to have Stephanie's car and belongings back within a couple of days if nothing of importance appeared. I immediately got in contact with my office along with a couple of people I knew in various intelligence agencies and with other people who were on the opposite side of the law. My mother had left me a voicemail that said she was at my house, had told the decorator that the room looked fine and sent her on her way. I arrived home five minutes later and found her pacing in the living room.

"Carlos, what is going on?" she asked, looking close to tears.

I gave her a brief explanation of the investigation and how Stephanie had tied into it while I looked through her laptop for notes. I knew she wouldn't have deleted them completely and thankfully found them within a couple of minutes because she didn't try to conceal her file data the way I did.

"Oh, God," she said once I had finished. She made the sign of the cross and buried her head in her hands. "Oh, Carlos."

I listened to my mother cry with a detachment that was as vital as oxygen for the time being. I couldn't fall apart. I couldn't take my eye off the ball for a second, or else I could lose my family before it was even complete.

"Have you called her parents?" she asked a while later after fielding a call from my father. I had been reading up on the various teachers she had investigated.

"No."

My mother looked surprised. "Why not?"

I shook my head. "I don't have time for this, Mom."

I could tell my mother wanted to argue, but refrained for the time being. I worked through the night and accepted food from my mother that I ate without tasting. She tried to get me to sleep, but I declined. I tried to get her to leave and she refused.

"I'm not leaving until you find her," she said stubbornly. "Someone has to make sure you eat and try to get you to sleep for a few minutes. And I don't want you to be alone if you get a call about her."

I shook my head. "I'm not letting myself go there. I can't."

 **Day 5**

I had lost count of how many times Stephanie had been kidnapped by someone. I knew that wasn't normal, but while she had been a bounty hunter it had been an unfortunate part of her life. It had become such a frequent occurrence that I regularly planted tracking devices in her car, her purse and kept tabs on her cell phone. She had called it overprotective, but I had seen it as necessary. And it had often saved her life. She had never been gone more than a day and that had only happened once. It wasn't until now that I realized I had gotten complacent in Miami, assuming she was away from the dangers she had known in Trenton. I had lived life in Trenton with the expectation that trouble would find Stephanie at least once a month. She had lived in Miami for over a year without a single car destroyed or harm from anyone and now she was nearly nine months pregnant, taken by someone who wanted to sell our daughter like a bootlegged designer purse.

The discovery of a body in Georgia the day before had been a kick to the gut. The woman's body had been thrown down a mountain and had been found by two hikers. The medical examiner said she had been shot in the back first before someone had cut her baby out of her and that she had died from blood loss due to the brutal C-section. They hadn't bothered to sew her back up, but had simply wrapped her in plastic. It was theorized that if this woman had been a victim of a human trafficking ring that she had been trying to escape from someone when she was shot and that they opted to take the baby versus attempting to save her because she was in her late-thirties and running out of usefulness to them. She had only been pregnant twice and had been reported missing from the Fort Myers area two years ago while four months' pregnant with her first child. I knew Stephanie and that she wouldn't go quietly. She would fight them to save her life and the life of our unborn child. She would want to get back to me. I could only pray she didn't end up like the other woman.

My resolve to not consider the worst was beginning to wane. Special Agent Melton had known that he needed to have a description of the woman before he called to tell me about her. She had been blonde and six feet tall, which meant there had been no chance of mistaking her for Stephanie. But it had planted an unwanted image in my head: one of Stephanie lying on a metal table, covered by a white sheet. I knew I was struggling because I had slept less than ten hours over the past five days, but I couldn't relax because I was always listening for the sound of her coming through the door, yelling my name. Or for the sound of my phone ringing with news that could range from "we found her'' to "we found her body''. I was resolved to getting enough sleep once I found her. Or once I was dead. By the end of the fifth day, the dangerous thoughts of what I would do if she were killed and the baby was dead or beyond locating started to creep in. But I had been able to stop those thoughts before they got too detailed, usually because my mother interrupted them with a question or to nag me about food or sleep.

 **Day 9**

"It has been nine days since the car belonging to Coral Gables resident Stephanie Plum was discovered abandoned on the side of the road near the Coral Gables Country Club and there have been no new leads in the disappearance of the thirty-five-year old mother-to-be," the news reporter said as a picture of Stephanie was shown on the screen. "Local police and the FBI continue to ask residents for any help in locating her. She is currently thirty-five weeks pregnant and is believed to have been abducted. Following our first broadcast, one driver reported to police that they had seen a black SUV parked behind her car on the road on the day she went missing. If anyone has any information regarding her disappearance, there is currently a $100,000 reward being offered for her safe return. Any tips can be called into the number on the screen."

I turned the television off and leaned back in my desk chair. I had been at the office all day, running various long-shot searches on the aliases that all proven to be fakes. I had started running different variations of the names, in case his real name was some sort of combination of the aliases. The results had been thousands of men in his estimated age range, though I had sorted out anyone who wasn't in the medical field, which had been the one consistency between all of the false identities. I had still been left with hundreds of possibilities. I had been interrupted by the phone multiple times during the day, mostly from my mother but one call had been from Julie. She was scared for Stephanie and Rachel had said she thought it was bringing up some of her own past kidnapping memories. I had done my best to calm her down, but she had said I wasn't doing enough to find Stephanie. She asked if I had spoken to Amelia Van Goethe and had gotten upset when I told her I hadn't. The last I had known she wasn't able to speak and I wasn't sure what her overall cognitive function was. I hadn't kept up with her condition and felt like trying to talk to a brain damaged girl wasn't a productive use of my time. Julie had been frustrated and hung up without a goodbye.

I copied all my work and saved it to my internal cloud drive before heading home. I knew my mother was still at my house and that the decorator had just finished the final touches on the baby's room. My mother had overseen the work, insisting that it needed to be done even if Stephanie wasn't here to have a say. She could change things once she got home. But after nine days, I was beginning to lose hope. I no longer stopped the thoughts of what I would do if I never saw her again or if I never had the chance to hold my daughter. And I knew it was why my mother never left me alone.

"Come look at the nursery," she said the minute I walked in the door. It was the last thing I wanted to do at the moment, but I didn't argue. I didn't have the energy for it. She pushed open the door and showed me a room almost identical to the one I had seen in a picture just weeks earlier. Purple walls, dark wood crib, dresser and table and an off-white chair with gray polka dots, matching ottoman, and a purple pillow propped up on its point. A framed picture of the baby's last ultrasound sat in a silver frame next to the chair. White butterflies hung from the ceiling over the crib. I walked over to the chair and sat down, the full weight of my exhaustion hitting me like a truck. I could feel my mother watching me, but a knock on the front door pulled her away.

"That'll be your father with some things I wanted him to bring," she said quietly. She pulled the door closed as she left, sensing that I needed a moment alone.

I leaned forward and rested my forehead on my palms, screwing up my eyes to keep the emotion at bay. I couldn't fall apart now, because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to pull myself together again. I wasn't going to stop until I had found Stephanie, no matter how I found her. If Serafina had been given away, I would look for her until I hit a dead end that I couldn't get around. I wasn't going to give up until I knew all hope was well and truly gone. I sat up and took in my surroundings. I wanted to be able to imagine Stephanie in here with Serafina, changing her clothes, talking to her, putting her to sleep, but I couldn't quite see it. At the moment, I was having what felt like an out-of-body experience. All I could see was myself, with nine days' beard growth and dark circles under my eyes, sitting in the chair in the corner. Part of me wanted to die in here, if it came to that. It would seem appropriate, to die in the room that symbolized everything I had lost.

I could hear multiple voices coming from the rest of the house and guessed that more than my father had showed up. Likely one or both of my grandmothers had insisted on coming along to check on me. I nearly jumped out of my seat when Julie burst into the room.

"It's Mr. Hatch!" she said, nearly screaming. "He's involved."

The pieces inside me that had wanted to break suddenly pulled back together. "What? How do you know?"

Julie was breathless, as though she had been running. "I went to Amelia's house. I told her mother that I had to talk to her because Stephanie was missing. I begged Amelia to tell me anything. She told me that the doctor at the center got her pregnant and that Mr. Hatch used to help her sneak out to see him because the doctor was his stepson."

That was it. The connection that would help pull at the strings we hadn't been able to find. I jumped up and hurried down the hall to the office with Julie on my heels. I pulled up the information on Charles Hatch from the computer and looked up his husband's name. Lawrence Wallace. Stephanie had listed him as a retired doctor, but hadn't done any deep background on him. I pulled up the system we used and entered his information. It took several minutes for the system to process, during which time I pulled up the list of names I still had to search and hoped I would find a match. Julie had pulled up a chair next to me and we waited in silence while the computer processed information. When the program finished I pulled up Lawrence Wallace's information.

He had been an OB/GYN for thirty-five years in eastern Tennessee until his license was revoked after several malpractice lawsuits eleven years ago. He was currently married to Charles Hatch and been married thirty-five years earlier to a woman named Clarissa Owens that had ended in divorce after one year. The marriage had produced one child, a son named Jason Owens. I had thirty-eight men named Jason Owens on my list.

"That's it," I said, removing all of the names from the list except for those named Jason Owens, aged thirty-five, which left me with ten men. One was in prison in Oklahoma, two lived in Ohio, and there was one each in Kentucky, Indiana, North Carolina, South Dakota, New York, Georgia, and Maine. I called Special Agent Melton and gave him the information I had. I would be running deeper backgrounds on the remaining men on my list, but figured it would work faster with multiple sources running the search.

"How did you get this information?" Melton asked after emitting an audible sigh of relief when I said I had a lead.

"My daughter followed up on something I had dismissed. She talked to the surviving girl, Amelia Van Goethe. She told her that Hatch used to help her sneak out to see Owens because he was his stepson."

"Keep me updated and I'll do the same," Melton said. "I'll get the team on Owens."

I disconnected with Melton and wrapped Julie in tight hug. "Thank you," I said. I kissed her on the top of the head. "You may have just saved Stephanie and the baby."

"I owe her," she replied, wiping tears from her cheeks. "She helped save me."

 **Day 10**

The FBI and I both came up with the same information on Owens. He was thirty-five, single, an OB/GYN like his father and had last worked at a clinic in Charlotte, North Carolina five years ago. There hadn't been any documentation of him being employed anywhere since, nor did he possess credit cards, bank accounts, property, or an online presence under that name. But he was real. His parents matched Wallace and his ex-wife, who had remarried when her son was six and had moved to Australia, leaving him behind with his father in the States. I forwarded the information onto one of my tech guys to do some deeper background to see if Owens had any presence on the dark web. I hadn't been dealing with corporate email since Stephanie had been taken, but one caught my eye that had come in earlier in the day and had receive three replies from other offices. The original email had come from Trevor at the Atlanta office.

 _ **Does anyone have info on a panic button labeled HBA-1012? I checked on it and it is listed as out of service for about two years, but we got a weird signal from it last night. It lasted about five minutes and only came in intermittently because it was showing up way out of range. We don't have anyone with a panic button showing up as traveling or living in that area. Any ideas?**_

I had a flashback to unpacking boxes in what was now the nursery, of Stephanie finding the old sports watch and putting on her wrist with a joke about it being her labor watch. I pulled up the log for the Rangeman panic buttons and found HBA-1012. It was the sports watch that had once been assigned to Stephanie, but pulled from use after she no longer needed it.

I hit speed dial on my phone for the Atlanta office. "Put me through to the monitor room," I said when the front desk answered. I was immediately connected to Trevor. "Tell me about the signal you got on that panic button."

"It was weird, boss," Trevor said in his thick Georgia accent. "It was comin' in and out because it was all the way in North Carolina. I tried to follow it, but it stopped after a few minutes. I don't know what's goin' on."

"It's my wife's panic button. I forgot she was wearing it again. Is it possible to remotely activate it from our end?" I asked.

"No, boss. The software in that thing is outta date and it probably needed a new battery, not to mention it only has a reliable range of a hundred miles and this was close to two hundred."

"Was there audio?"

"It was in and out. I can send all of that to you."

"Do it," I said and disconnected. I waited for the information to come through my email and it did within three minutes. The signal had come in from the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains outside of Asheville, North Carolina. Because the signal had been inconsistent, they had only been able to narrow the range down to a twenty-mile radius. But it was something. I pulled up the audio file and listened.

"Where are we?" I heard Stephanie ask. My heart skipped a beat when I heard her. She sounded normal. A man's voice responded with "It ," but was cut off. The audio picked up again and I heard Stephanie mention mountains. The man's voice came up again and told her to shut up. The audio only picked up a couple of seconds of speech intermittently again, then was just the sound of birds and what sounded like someone breathing into their hands as if they were cold.

I called Melton and told him what I had received. I forwarded him the information and said I was going to head towards North Carolina. I wanted to be on site once they figured out the exact location. Melton said he would meet me at the FBI regional office in Asheville unless he called me to say otherwise. I told my office manager to get me a flight to Asheville while I packed a bag and updated my mother, who hovered over me asking a million questions.

"I'll go with you," she said. "You shouldn't go alone."

"I'm not going alone. I'm flying up with the FBI," I lied. "I'm just waiting on them to tell me when the plane leaves."

That had satisfied my mother enough to get her off my case. I got a call an hour later from Mario.

"I can't get you on a chartered flight tonight," he said. "It's close to Christmas and all of the local companies have a lot of pilots off and are either completely booked or are reserved on standby. I tried some of the other places nearby, but they all have the same problem. The earliest I could get you out was the day after tomorrow. All the rich people want to leave town for the holidays and a lot of pilots want to stay home."

Damn it. And I couldn't fly commercial because I always triggered the security scanner and there were things I wanted to take with me that wouldn't make it through security and would likely get flagged when being scanned in checked luggage.

I disconnected and mapped out the trip on my phone. It would take a minimum of eleven hours to drive the eight hundred miles to Asheville. That didn't include any traffic and stops. It was already two in the afternoon. Driving straight through with minimal stops would put me there by two or three in the morning at the earliest. It would have to do. I sent a text to Melton to let him know that I had to drive and to keep me updated. He replied that he had barely been able to get booked on a commercial flight and had been forced to pull his badge as an excuse to bump someone. Apparently Melton didn't rank high enough to have a charter plane on standby.

I packed clothes for Stephanie in with mine. I felt more confident about finding her than I had in several days. In a second bag I packed weapons, ammo, flack vest and various other equipment that the FBI would have for themselves, but wouldn't want to give me. I wasn't going to give them any excuse to keep me out of it. I had no idea what I was going to be walking into once we pinpointed a location and wanted to be prepared. We may have to hike through the mountains, which would be much cooler than Miami.

I told my mother to go home and I would keep her posted once I knew more. She hugged me tightly as I prepared to leave.

"Be safe," she said, her voice breaking as she spoke. "And promise me you'll come home no matter what."

I hugged her, but didn't return her promise. "I'm going to find her," I said.

The drive from Miami to Asheville was the type that would have left Stephanie beating her head against the steering wheel. Normally I have the patience to tolerate traffic and construction, but I found myself frustrated, even yelling at a couple of people who slowed things up. I was forced to stop for gas three times, making good use of the stop to take care of all other needs and was back on the road within fifteen minutes each time. Melton had called when I was outside of Columbia, SC to say they were working through the night at the office and told me to come straight there.

 **Day 11**

It was three-thirty in the morning as I pulled into the parking lot of an office building in downtown Asheville. A tired-looking agent in khakis and a shirt open at the collar let me inside.

"We've been looking over maps and land information for the area your men were able to pin down," Melton said, showing me a series of paper maps spread out on a conference table. "There is a bunch of land controlled by the state for wildlife management in the eastern part, but the rest of it is held by different companies or people. There are a couple of small towns scattered around along with some privately held lands. Nothing listed as being owned by Jason Owens, Lawrence Wallace, Charles Hatch, or any of the other aliases Owens has been using. We're digging into the individuals and small companies first in case they have land under another alias or a shell company. We're also prioritizing isolated properties. We can't see them keeping at least two women hostage in a town without someone noticing or without someone managing to escape and get help."

"What can I do?" I asked.

"Go over these satellite images with Patterson to see if any properties stand out to you," he said, indicating the man who had let me into the building.

The images were slightly better than Google Earth, but not by much. Patterson and I each reviewed the image and pointed out anything of interest. I wasn't allowed to look at them on my own since I wasn't FBI. We occasionally found a property and would give the coordinates to Melton and another man to look at further, but I knew that we weren't seeing everything. There were plenty of places where buildings could be concealed by tree growth.

"Have you researched any recent construction?" I asked after an hour. I had checked my cell phone, noticed I had no service inside the building and an idea had hit. "They may have built a new structure or reinforced an existing one. I keep thinking back to why Stephanie wouldn't have activated her watch before now. I can't see someone taking it from her and giving it back, so I believe she has had it on her the entire time. The panic button is easily triggered and discreet, so being noticed wouldn't be an issue. She was outside when it was activated and she was obviously being watched. I'm thinking she is being kept in a building that a signal couldn't escape, or in some sort of underground bunker."

Melton nodded. "I hadn't considered that. I'll get that run started."

The phone on the conference table rang shortly after five and Melton answered it.

"Where?" I heard him ask and the seriousness of his tone had everyone looking up. I saw him scribbling a note on a piece of paper. "Okay, we're on our way."

Melton hung up and let out a sigh of relief. "Stephanie Plum, Macy Reichenbach, six other pregnant women and Macy's newborn baby just showed up at a gas station in Canton."

All of us were out of our seats and headed to the parking lot as we got updated. "Stephanie had an injured hand and Macy had just given birth shortly before they got to that gas station, so both of them are being taken to the nearest emergency room," Melton said. He told me the name of the hospital and what city it was in. "You go on there, be with your wife. I'm headed to the gas station to talk to the other women. We'll follow up with Stephanie and Macy later."

I nodded and jumped into my car. I pulled up directions on my phone and waited for it to reacquire a signal as I pulled out of the lot. I knew I needed to head west and when my map app started directing me towards the highway, I saw that it was going to be a twenty-five-mile trip. My phone dinged a minute later, saying I had a voicemail, but there hadn't been a call. It was from a number I didn't recognize. I played the message as I merged into traffic.

"What the hell? Your pregnant wife is kidnapped and you have your phone turned off!" Stephanie said on the message. I was so relieved to hear her voice and the indignation in it that I couldn't help but laugh. "Anyway, I'm fine. We got out and came to a gas station to call for help. I told the police that the FBI was looking for Macy and that they might be looking for me now too. The woman here told me we are in somewhere called Canton, North Carolina. I'm okay. I'm safe. We both are. I love you."

I hadn't been able to stop laughing as I listened to her message. I replayed it twice as I drove down the highway and at some point the laughter had turned into tears. I wiped my eyes and took a few deep breaths to get myself under control. She was safe. Serafina wasn't being taken away from us. I was going to see her in less than half an hour. We weren't going to miss out on our life together. Feeling more relieved than I had ever felt in my life, I played her message again.

 _ **A/N: The next chapter will pick up where Stephanie's left off and talk about how they escaped.**_


	27. Chapter 27

I tried to guess how long it would take Ranger to find me if the panic button's GPS signal had been able to connect. If he was personally coming to wherever we were from Miami, it could be a day. If we were in Tennessee like Mouse suspected, he could get his Atlanta office here faster. He could call the FBI, who could also get here faster than he could. I couldn't sleep that night because I was constantly listening for the sounds of doors being busted down, yells, and possibly gunfire. I was more than disappointed when breakfast came around the next morning the way it had done every day since my arrival. And it was oatmeal, which made it even worse.

Larry looked like his usual self so I guessed he hadn't been fighting off law enforcement or mercenaries all night, and for the first time since my abduction, I saw both Hatch and Not-His-Real-Name-Paul. Macy said she had heard him referred to as Jason. Both men came into the room and looked around while Larry handed out meals and vitamins. They talked amongst themselves, pointed out various women as though they were judges as a 4-H show. Fake Paul/Jason gave me a once over and a smile that made my skin crawl.

"I won't mind fucking you when the time comes," he said, walking over to my bed and sitting on the end. "I have to close my eyes and imagine Angelina Jolie with most of them." I pulled my feet up away from him and responded by giving him the finger with my good hand, which made him laugh.

I waited until all three men left before I started eating my oatmeal. I looked over at Macy, who wasn't looking so great. "You okay?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I don't feel well. Kind of nauseous."

"Uh-oh, girl," LaShay said through a bite of toast. "That's sounding like early labor to me. You're about to pop as it is. That's baby's so low she's practically waving at us."

Macy didn't look happy at that news. "I don't want her to come," she whimpered. "I don't want them to take her away."

LaShay scooted off her bed and came to sit with Macy. "I know you don't, baby. But you'll get used to it. It'll always hurt a little when it happens, but then you remember that she'll be with some people who really wanted her. Imagine them giving her a good life with horses and sports cars for her sixteenth birthday, because you know any motherfuckers who can drop two hundred grand on a baby can afford shit like that."

I pushed my tray away and had to work hard to keep what breakfast I had eaten from coming back up. Two hundred thousand dollars for a baby? I rubbed my belly and swore to Serafina that no one was buying her. I was getting out of here no matter what. And I wasn't going to let Macy lose her baby. If she wanted to keep her daughter, she was going to keep her. I had no idea how I was going to accomplish that if Ranger didn't show up soon, but I was going to try.

Unfortunately for Macy, LaShay's prediction had been right. She started having contractions before lunch arrived. We had no means to time the contractions and struggled to find any sense of time. But I had been told that Larry was undoubtedly timing her contractions because he could see her on camera. When lunch time came around, Larry wasn't the one distributing the meals. He came in wearing a pair of rubber gloves while Hatch pushed the cart around and handed out trays.

"Lay back, pull down your pants, and pull your knees up," Larry told Macy as he sat down at the foot of her bed. She looked like she might resist for a second, but gave up as another contraction hit. Once the pain had ended, she did as he asked and I focused on my lunch to give her privacy.

"Five centimeters," he commented to Hatch. "She's progressing quickly. That's good. The parents were hoping to have the baby by Christmas. Looks like they will get their wish."

He reached into the dresser at the foot of the bed and tossed a hospital gown up to Macy. "Put this on. I'll be in every hour to check you."

He and Hatch left and locked the door behind them. Cody and Izzie, who I had recently learned were cousins, sat talking amongst themselves in the corner. They never spoke to anyone else. April came over to sit on the edge of Macy's bed and reassured her that she would be fine. That the pain wasn't that bad and that it would be over soon. With the exception of the cousins, the remaining women surrounded Macy and encouraged her as the contractions got closer together. Larry came in hourly, or what I assumed was hourly since I no longer had a working watch, and checked Macy's cervix. This lasted the rest of the day and when it was time for lights out, the lights above Macy's bed were left on. She was told she could have one person to stay with her through the delivery. Everyone else had to be in their beds.

"Stephanie, will you stay with me?" she asked. I nodded and sat on the edge of my bed while she paced.

She leaned against the bed and cried every time a contraction hit. I had no idea what to say to help her feel better. Being in labor seemed awful enough, but doing it while be held against your will was unspeakable. Larry had come into to do two more checks after lights out and announced she was at eight centimeters. He said if her water hadn't broken by the next check, he would do it manually. He had barely made it out the door when Macy looked down to see herself standing in a puddle. I got some towels from the dresser and helped her clean it up so that she didn't fall while she paced.

"Oh God, it hurts," she cried. She fell back onto her bed and pulled herself up to the headboard. "I think I need to push."

"Don't do that yet," I said quickly. "He may be an asshole, but I think Larry knows what he's doing. Let him tell you if you can to push."

As if on cue, Larry came into the room dressed in dark blue surgical scrubs, pushing a car that contained a hospital-style baby bed on top with multiple drawers below. I had seen something similar at the hospital when my sister had her children. He placed the cart at the rear of the bed by her dresser. He pulled on another pair of gloves and checked her again.

"You're ready to start pushing," he said. There was no warmth in his voice. It was clinical and cold, almost bored. As if he had done this so many times he was annoyed by it.

I was instructed to help brace one of her legs while he held the other. I hadn't intended to have a front row seat to the horror show, but I had gotten one anyone. I tried not to look, but morbid curiosity won out. I was going to be in the same position in a few weeks' time, though I was going to be damned if Serafina Manoso was going to be born in this hellhole. I felt myself involuntarily clench as I saw the top of a small head start to emerge from Macy's body. I heard blood start pounding in my ears and I started sweating. I couldn't pass out. It was going to be fine. I looked away for a moment and composed myself. Macy needed me to keep it together.

Larry had opened the top drawer of the cart, revealing a bunch of medical instruments and was organizing them between Macy's pushes. He hadn't said anything else to her since he told her she could start pushing, but told her to stop as the baby's head emerged completely. He guided the baby as it turned to face him and then told her to resume pushing. The baby was completely out after two more pushes.

"I need more towels," he said to me as he began clamping off the umbilical cord. "Get them out of the dresser."

I did as I was told and handed the remaining two towels to him. I watched as he wiped the baby off, suctioned gunk out of her mouth with a syringe, and she began to cry. After another minute, he cut the cord between mother and baby, wrapped the baby in a towel, and put her in the plastic bed on top of the cart. He sat back down between Macy's legs and massaged her lower abdomen.

"Can I hold her?" Macy asked after a few minutes, trying to look around him at the crying baby.

"No," he replied. "You need to push again to expel the placenta."

As if the baby being born hadn't been gross enough, what happened next had me gagging. I got up and started pacing while I took some deep breaths. I didn't watch, could see from my peripheral vision that Larry had examined the placenta for a minute before putting it into a plastic bag and tossed it into a bottom drawer on the cart. As I walked past the cart in my pacing, I caught a glimpse of a scalpel. Larry's back was to me as he used towels to soak up blood. I was startled when he snapped his fingers at me and for a minute assumed he had caught me looking at the drawer.

"I need more towels," he said without looking back.

I had to go to my own dresser for towels and as I handed them across the cart with my bad hand, I used my good hand to surreptitiously pick up the scalpel. I kept it hidden length-wise along my hand and wrist while I paced and continued to act as though I wasn't feeling so great.

"I'll be back to do the stitches," he informed Macy coldly.

I stepped out of his way as he closed the top drawer on the cart and began pushing it towards the door. Macy started sobbing as she watched her baby being taken away. Knowing I had one chance, I hurried up behind him and quickly slid the scalpel across his throat, pressing the blade as deep into his neck as I could. He immediately fell back against me, but I was able to catch myself Mouse's dresser as he fell to the ground, grasping as his neck from which blood poured. LaShay leapt out of bed and whooped.

"You are one bad bitch!" she said happily and stood next to me as we watched Larry start to lose consciousness. I felt nothing at the moment. The only thing I could think was that I needed to get his keys and we needed to get the hell out of here.

I bent over his body once his hand fell away from his neck and he stared unseeingly at the ceiling. I found the keys in the pocket of his scrubs and started rifling through them. I had been paying attention to the color and shape of the key he used to unlock the door whenever he left the room.

"We need to put on some layers and get the baby wrapped up," I said, picking her up from the cart and carrying her over to Macy, who took her baby and held her close. "We may have to walk a while."

I hadn't been sure what to expect from some of the women. April and Joan, who had seemed like they were so far gone that they would have protected Larry from me were the first ones to jump up and start getting organized. Cody and Izzie also broke out of their shells and began passing out extra socks, slippers, and t-shirts. We got more towels and wrapped them around the baby while we helped Macy into regular clothes.

"Sorry about the stitches," I said. "I'm sure you can get them somewhere else."

Macy let out a weak laugh. "I'll do them myself if it means we can get out of here."

"Does anyone know the layout of the building?" I asked as I pulled on a long-sleeved t-shirt. "We all know where the back door is and where the exam room is, but what about the two doors on the left? And what is in the other direction?"

"There's an office right next door," April said. "I've seen the door open before."

"The door at the other end goes out to the front of the building," Cody said as she pulled on slippers over three pairs of socks. "I could see a car out there once. I figured that's where they park."

I ran my fingers through my hair and brainstormed. I had no idea where Hatch or Fake Paul/Jason were. They had been in the building earlier in the day, but who knew if they were still here. Macy was going to difficult to move between having just given birth and carrying a baby, so we needed to be better prepared before we moved her.

"Okay, I think a couple of us should check out the office and see if Hatch and the other guy are still here before we try to get out. We don't want to risk getting shot as we run away," I said. I knew everyone in the room immediately though about the woman who used to sleep in my bed. "Who wants to come with me?"

"I will," Cody said. I had a feeling she wanted to come along with me to make sure I didn't try to leave them all behind and save myself. She wouldn't leave without Izzie, and everyone else knew it.

"Okay, let's go," I said, picking the scalpel up from the floor as I avoided slipping in Larry's blood. "Everyone get a weapon and be prepared to use it if one of the men comes in."

Cody grabbed a pair of surgical scissors from the drawer and followed me to the door. I found the right key on the second attempt and slowly opened the door and stuck my head out. The hall was quiet, but well lit. Considering no one had burst into the room when they saw me slit Larry's throat, I assumed no one was manning the security cameras. We went to the room next door and tried the handle. It was unlocked. Cody and I both had our weapons poised and ready to use as I pushed open the door, but the room was empty. There were four monitors that showed the room where we had been kept on screen along with the exterior of the building. I could see the other six women waiting expectantly on camera on two monitors and glimpses of dark forest on the other two. We closed the door behind us and started looking around the room. There were blank birth certificates from various states next to a computer and printer on a large desk. There was a small refrigerator that held vials of various medications and syrgines. A large closet held office supplies, three sets of car key fobs on hooks, and several guns. I picked up a Glock, thankful that I had watched Ranger load his daily, and inserted a clip. It was difficult since I couldn't do much with my left hand, but I made it work. I grabbed another clip and stuffed it into my bra.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" I asked Cody. She shook her head. I grabbed two more guns, loaded them and handed them to her. "Take these. Just don't touch the triggers unless you're pointing the guns at one of the guys and put the extras somewhere in case we need them." She followed my lead and stuck them in her bra, making her look like she had oddly deformed breasts. I grabbed all three key fobs and stuffed them into the other side of my bra. They were the kind that would allow the holder to unlock and start the car as long as the fob was on them. I kept the keys to the building looped around my middle finger of my right hand so that I could use the Glock if needed.

We opened the door again, this time better armed. It was still silent in the hallway, so I motioned for Cody to follow me and we walked toward the door at the end of the hall. She grabbed my arm as I made see if it was unlocked.

"We aren't leaving without Izzie!" she hissed.

"We just need to see what the vehicle situation is first," I whispered back. "The less stopping we can do as a group the better chances we have of getting out of here unnoticed. I'm not leaving anyone behind."

Satisfied, she let go of my arm and watched the hall as I tried the door. Locked. I tucked the Glock into the front of my pants and started trying different keys on the door. It took half the keys on the ring before I found the right one. I pushed the door open quietly and looked outside. It was pitch black, but I could make out the outline of a small sedan, a minivan, and the black SUV that had been used to kidnap me.

"Okay, we all head to the van," I told Cody. "Let's go back and get everyone."

We slowly opened the door to the room and made a whispered announcement so that we didn't get stabbed to death by five jumpy women. Joan and LaShay both said they were familiar with guns and relieved Cody of the two she held. Cody and Izzie helped Macy walk to the door slowly as she carried her baby daughter. I took the lead and showed everyone the way while Joan stood in the hallway and watched the furthest doors and LaShay brought up the rear. Once we were all outside, we hurried to the minivan and climbed in. I wasn't going to start it until we were all inside because the noise might wake the men, who I assumed where still in the building given the presence of three vehicles. LaShay rode shotgun and I was just about to climb into the passenger seat when the door to the building burst open and Hatch and Fake Paul/Jason both came out with flashlights and guns. I got into the driver's seat and pulled the door closed enough to provide some protection but allowed me to point the gun awkwardly out at the men.

I didn't hesitate as I fired round after round. I knew I hit one of them when I saw a flashlight hit the ground and I kept shooting towards the second silhouette. The driver's side window was shot out and I took the opportunity to close the driver's side door and start shooting through the window. Once I saw the second body hit the ground, I sat up in the seat, jammed my finger into the start button, put the van into drive and pulled away. I could see a clearing where a path had been forged through the trees, but it wasn't an actual road. It was a bumpy ride as we barely passed between trees on both sides. I heard Macy groan with each bump.

"Sorry, Macy," I yelled back at her over the howl of wind from the missing window. "Is anyone hurt?"

Everyone assured me they were fine and I kept on driving until I found a paved road. I looked both directions and opted to turn left, which led downhill. The van was silent except for the rush of wind and the occasional baby noise as I drove in the dark. The clock on the dash said it was just after three-thirty. After ten minutes I saw a sign on the road that announced the village of Banford, population 45.

"Do you think we should try to stop here?" I asked as houses cropped up a minute later. "Maybe someone would let us use their phone."

"Haven't you ever seen a horror movie?" Joan asked. "The girl running away always stops at a house to call for help and then she finds out people in the little towns are crazier than the monster she escaped. I would rather stop at a gas station or something."

Everyone else agreed, so I kept driving downhill. It felt like we had been driving for hours before I started seeing signs for Interstate 40. There would hopefully be non-crazy civilization there. Wherever there was.

I took Interstate 40 East and held my breath while I waited for signs of civilization. We passed a few cars and numerous semis in the dark. I nearly crashed the van when Izzie let out a scream.

"That sign said twenty miles to Asheville," she said excitedly. "We're in North Carolina."

The next sign told us that there was an Exxon station at the next exit in a place called Canton. I pulled off the highway and headed towards the gas station. 

I pulled into a parking spot in front of a convenience store and left the car running. "I'll go inside and ask to use the phone. Macy needs an ambulance and we need the police."

I headed inside, which was completely empty except for an older Indian woman.

"Excuse me" I said. "May I use your phone?"

"You don't have a cell phone?" the woman asked skeptically.

"I did, but I've been held hostage with those women in the car," I said, jerking my thumb over my shoulder. "We just escaped and we need to call the police."

The woman laughed. "You are crazy."

"Sure, I'm crazy," I said. "As long as you call the police and tell them that there are eight women in the parking lot who said they just escaped from being held hostage and need help, you can tell them you think we are all crazy. Just get them here. One of the women just had a baby like an hour ago and needs an ambulance."

The woman didn't laugh this time, but looked back out at the van. She eyed me up and down before reaching under the counter for a cell phone. She unlocked it and handed it to me.

"Here," she said. I thanked her and dialed 911. I told the operate the same story I had told the woman who was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. I had to ask her what the exact address was for the gas station and passed it along to the operator.

"I know the FBI is looking for one of the women, Macy Reichenbach," I added. "She went missing from Minnesota last year. There's a Special Agent Melton working on her case. I was in Miami when I was taken eleven days ago." I knew it had been eleven days since I'd been taken because I was staring at a sign that indicated the legal birthdates for people to purchase cigarettes and alcohol.

"Okay, we will send help to your location right away," the dispatcher said. "Are you in danger from the people holding you?" 

"I'm pretty sure they are all dead, or at least two of them are badly injured and one is dead. I didn't stick around to check."

The woman's eyes got big as she stared at me from behind the counter. I gave her a _told you so_ look. I hung up with dispatch and asked if I could call my husband. The woman nodded and I dialed Ranger's number. It immediately went to voicemail.

Seriously? I was missing and he had his phone turned off? It had better be because he was preparing to break down the door at that building in the mountains or I was going to be really pissed.

I left him a message that conveyed both annoyance at his lack of answer but also reassured him that the baby and I were both fine and that I loved him. I disconnected, handed the phone back to the woman and went back out to the van.

"Help is on the way," I said. "How is everyone doing?"

"I'm freaked out," April admitted. "I haven't been outside in like ten years or something, except for when they let me out in the little yard. I don't know what I'm going to do." She started to cry. "I don't know where my family is or if they even want me to come home."

I had a feeling that sentiment resonated with a couple of the other long-timers. LaShay was instructing Macy on how to breastfeed her baby.

"Just put her up to your tit," she said. "She'll figure it out."

Macy did as she was told and we all watched as the baby found her nipple and started to suck. We did a golf clap for the baby as the sound of sirens became audible.

"Oh, shit," LaShay said as she started to cry. "I can't believe this is happening. We really gonna be saved."

I stepped out of the car and waited as several police cars showed up along with three ambulances. I waved at the nearest police car.

"Are you Stephanie Plum?" the officer asked he approached. I nodded and the other doors to the van started opening.

The women all climbed out except for Macy, all of us at varying stages of visible pregnancy. Three more officers approached the van and stared at us as though they had never seen anything like it.

"Macy just had her baby," I said, pointing to her. "She needs help."

Two EMTs hurried over with a stretcher and started talking to Macy. The remaining EMTs came over and started asking about injuries. One of them immediately noticed my hand.

"What happened?" the man asked. He was about my age and reminded me a little of Sally Sweet with his dark hair and lanky body.

"I got stabbed with a scalpel when I refused to cooperate," I said. "It hurts like hell, but he stitched it up."

While the EMT unwrapped the bandage on my hand, an officer took information from me about the abduction in Miami, my time in captivity, and how we managed to escape. I told him that the FBI had been looking for Macy and needed to be notified.

"I'll be doing that now," he said. "I'm sure they'll want to talk to all of you."

"You need to have this hand checked out by a doctor," the EMT said after applying a fresh bandage. "You've ripped it open at the palm."

I didn't argue as they loaded Macy into the same ambulance on a gurney and we rode away. I hoped the FBI had me on their radar as well and would update Ranger if he hadn't gotten my message. I knew it would take him a while to get to North Carolina from Miami, but just being able to hear his voice would be helpful. The adrenaline that had been coursing through me from the moment I slit Larry's throat was starting to dissipate and I felt the letdown hit hard. I was trying my best to keep from sobbing, but it was getting harder with each minute. I started shivering and the EMT wrapped a blanket around me.

"You're safe now," he said reassuringly. I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip.

We arrived at a small hospital ten minutes later and we were taken in through the emergency room. I was shown into a small exam room and Macy was taken to one right next door. I laid down on the bed and a nurse came in to take my vitals and ask the routine questions. Another nurse came in a few minutes later and wrapped a belt my belly. She told me it was called a fetal monitor and would check on the baby's heart beat continuously for a period of time to make sure she wasn't in distress. I had blood drawn and was told to press the button on the bed if I needed anything until the doctor came in. I looked around the room for a phone, but didn't see one. I really needed to talk to Ranger.

I closed my eyes and tried to do some deep breathing. I was safe and I would see him again soon. It wasn't a question of if, but when at this point. When a nurse came in again, I was going to ask about calling him. I had been close to falling asleep when I heard someone come into the room. I opened my eyes, expecting to see a nurse, and was shocked to find Ranger standing next to my bed. I had my arms around him as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You're here," I said, slightly dazed. "How did you get here so quickly?"

"I was in Asheville with the FBI when they got the call from local police," he said. He pulled back so he could look at me, but kept his arms around me. "And I didn't get your call because their building has bad cell reception."

If anyone looked at the two of us, they might have assumed Ranger had been the one held hostage for a week and a half. He looked like he had lost weight and hadn't slept in a year. It looked as though he hadn't shaved since I had been missing. Even his skin looked off-color, like he had been sick recently. The stress had taken a toll on him.

"Did you get the signal from my watch or had you been following a lead here?" I asked.

"The Atlanta office picked up your signal," he said. "I had never put the watch back on active monitoring so they didn't know who it belonged to, plus you were out of range so the signal was intermittent for about five minutes and then dropped completely. They were only able to narrow it to a twenty-mile radius."

I held up wrist and showed him the dead watch. "Battery died. I was inside a concrete building and couldn't get a signal so I had to wait until they gave me outdoor time."

Ranger had caught sight of my bandaged hand. "What happened?"

"I wouldn't cooperate so he stabbed me through the hand with a scalpel. Told me if I didn't start cooperating that he would start cutting off my fingers. So I cooperated. Until I didn't."

Emotion threatened to overwhelm me, but I wasn't ready for that yet. I wanted to keep it together until I had finished talking to police and could sit with Ranger and cry without interruption until I felt better.

"It was the teacher, Charles Hatch, that got me," I said. "He was on the side of the road by the country club acting like he was having a heart attack. I stopped and he told me he had nitro but had dropped it between the seats. He injected me with something while I was leaning over and another guy helped me put me into his car." I shook my head. "It was a doctor. He went by the name Paul Shaughnessy, but I think his real name is ,"

"Jason Owens," Ranger finished for me. "The FBI had been looking into him when you were abducted. He had several aliases and they all hit dead ends. We found his connection to Hatch thanks to Julie."

My stomach clenched and I grabbed Ranger's arm with my good hand. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"She's fine,' he reassured me. "She followed up on something I had dismissed, which helped us figure out who really had you. She talked to Amelia Van Goethe, who told her that Owens was Hatch's stepson and that Hatch would help her sneak out to see him. But you ultimately saved yourselves."

The memory of sliding the scalpel across Larry's throat flashed in my mind. I buried my face in his chest and pressed my lips together. "I need to keep it together a while longer," I told him. "I can't fall apart yet."

"Babe. No one would blame you."

I shook my head. "It's not that. I just don't want to be interrupted when it happens. That's how I cope with the bad stuff. I get it all out and once and then I'm fine."

We both knew Ranger was the polar opposite. He kept everything inside and it slowly ate him alive. Whatever pain he had been going through in my absence seemed like it had taken something out of him, and I wondered if he would ever be able to get it back.

I started telling him about the women who had been kept in the room with me for those eleven days. I hadn't been with them long, but gave him long, detailed explanations about what I knew of their past and the time they had spent there. I told him about the room we had been kept in and the routine. I didn't go into the details of Larry's invasive examination the day he stabbed me in the hand, just that I had tried to kick him when he said he was going to sell my baby no matter what. I didn't think Ranger needed any more stress on his plate. I had been talking without a break for nearly forty-five minutes when a young, female doctor came into the room.

"I'm Dr. Namara," she said. "I'm going to stitch up your hand and check out the fetal monitor to see how your baby is doing."

We were silent while she looked at the baby's heartbeat for the past hour. "Everything looks good," she said and turned off the machine. She released me from the monitor and put it on the side. "Now let's look at this hand."

Ranger held my good hand while the doctor put stitches in my palm. She asked various questions about how I had been feeling. I told her that I was fine other than my hand, that I just wanted to go home as soon as possible. She told me there were waiting on my blood work, but as long as I was feeling fine and nothing abnormal showed up, I would be discharged soon. I thanked her and watched as she was passed in the doorway by Special Agent Melton.

"Stephanie," he said, shaking my hand. "I've been told by the other women that you saved all of their lives."

I felt Ranger's eyes on me, but I knew if I looked at him I would lose it. "We had to get out," I said with a shrug. "He was going to take Macy's baby from her and I knew I would be next if I didn't take my chance when I had it. I picked up a scalpel when he wasn't looking and slit his throat as he walked away. We got the keys, got weapons, and were all getting into the van when Hatch and Owens came out shooting. I shot them both and drove us to the gas station."

I felt Ranger squeeze my hand as Melton made notes. "That's consistent with what everyone else said."

I gave him the story of my kidnapping, details of what happened while I was being held, and was asked if I knew any other information. I was just finishing up when Dr. Namara came in to tell me I was free to go, gave me discharge paperwork, and a prescription for painkillers and antibiotics for my hand.

"I have one last thing to ask," Melton said. I could tell I wasn't going to like it by his expression. "We can't find the property. I've had agents out looking for it, but none of the other women can tell me how to find it. I wondered if you would drive up there with me and see if you can find it, since you were the one driving the van."

I took a few deep breaths and nodded. "Okay," I said. "But can I check on the others before I leave?"

"Sure," Melton said. "They've been asking about you. I'll be in the lobby when you're ready."

"You don't have to do this," Ranger said as he handed me a black bag. "You have clothes in there," he added when I just stared at the bag.

I changed into jeans, a blue shirt with three-quarter-length sleeves, and sneakers. There was a fleece jacket in the bag as well and I pulled it on over the shirt. It felt nice to be in my own clothes again. I left the layers of t-shirts, socks, and pants on the bed. They could burn them for all I cared. It was almost nine by the time I walked out of the exam room and went in search of the other women.

The first room I went to was Macy's. She was sitting up in the bed holding her baby girl. Her eyes were red from crying and LaShay was sitting in a chair next to her bed talking to her.

"Hey, Stephanie," she said. "I talked to my parents. They're on their way here."

"I'm glad," I said, taking a seat on the foot of her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," she said. She blew out a breath. "I'm keeping her," she said, indicating the baby sleeping in her arms. "I told my parents and they completely support me. We've been through a lot together. I don't know how I'll tell her about all of this, but I have time to figure that out."

"Oh, Lord," LaShay said. I hadn't realized she had been staring at Ranger. "Who is this man?"

"That's my husband, Carlos," I said. "He was working with the FBI trying to find me."

LaShay got up and walked over to him as though she didn't quite believe he was real. "I have only seen three men in the past eight years," she told him. "So I don't know if you're really the sexist man I have ever seen or if it's just because I haven't had any options in a while."

"No, he's really that sexy," I replied. The uncomfortable look on Ranger's face nearly made me smile. He was normally pretty confident about his appearance. Confident was probably too kind of a word. The man knew he was hot. He just wasn't in the mood to talk about it right now.

"Well, if you decide to kill me for this, I'll understand," LaShay said before grabbing Ranger by the front of his shirt and pressing her lips to his. I could tell Ranger had been too surprised to be able to pull away first. "But that was worth dying for," she finished once she had taken her lips off my husband.

I couldn't fault her. He was hot, and she had been held hostage for eight years. I shrugged at him.

"I'll be in the hall," he said, stepping out of LaShay's reach for she could grab him again.

"If you ever want to trade up, I'll make sure you know where to find me," LaShay called after him.

Macy and I both started laughing. It felt nice to find something to laugh about, even if it was another woman lusting after my husband.

"What about you?" I asked LaShay once she took her seat again. "Where are you going?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm originally from Atlanta, but I didn't have any family or anything when they took me. And I don't know what I'll do with this kid," she said, indicating her belly. "The FBI said there are a bunch of charities that help people out when they've been victims of crime or whatever. They help you get a driver's license, a job, and a place to live. They said I can live wherever I want, so now I just need to decide where I want to go."

I found some paper and a pen on a table next to Macy's bed. I scribbled down my name and phone number on two pieces of paper. "If you end up in Miami, let me know. But keep in touch anyway. Let me know how you guys are doing."

They both promised they would. I hugged both women as I stood to leave. "I wish we had met under better circumstances, but I'm glad I met you anyway," I said to LaShay. "And if I ever decide to leave my husband, I'll let you have first dibs."

"That's all I ask," she said. She got serious for a minute. "Thank you. Really. I don't know if I would have ever gotten out of there if it weren't for you."

"Me too," Macy said. She looked down at her baby girl. "And you kept us together. That's why I named her Stephanie."

I felt my throat tighten. "Stephanie Reichenbach? That's going to be a hell of a name to learn how to spell."

I found Ranger leaning against the wall beside the door in the hallway. "LaShay isn't coming out, so you're safe," I said. "But I did promise her first dibs if we ever split."

"Babe."

I learned that Cody and Izzie had refused to go to the hospital, but had contacted their families using a police officer's cell phone. They were from North Carolina, so their families had already been able to collect them and start taking them back home. Mouse and Joan had both indicated that they wished to terminate their pregnancies and were legally able to do so because they were both less than twenty-weeks pregnant. They had been transferred to a hospital in Asheville. April was further along and therefore not able to terminate, but said she wanted to pursue legal adoption services. She had been too nervous to call her family, but a nurse had offered and had informed her parents what had happened to her. She had been pleasantly surprised to find out that they had been looking for her all these years, guilt-ridden over the way they had handled the initial pregnancy. They were on their way to North Carolina to get her and take her back to California.

I held Ranger's hand as we made our way out to the lobby. Melton was talking to a couple of local police and dismissed them as we approached.

"Ready?" he asked. I nodded.

I showed him and two other men who were from the local FBI field office the general path we had taken on a map. Ranger, Melton, and I climbed into the Cayenne and led the other SUV with the other two agents back towards the mountains. It took about twenty-five minutes for us to reach the village of Banford with its population of forty-five people. I hadn't paid attention to how fast I had been driving, but knew it had been about ten minutes between the time I had turned onto the paved road and when we first saw the village. I knew it would be in the trees somewhere along the right side of the road.

"There," I said, pointing to a clearing that was wide enough for one car. "That's it."

Ranger drove through the brush and I hadn't realized it went further up the mountain. I had been so desperate to get away that I hadn't realized we were going downhill. The drive didn't seem to take as long in the daylight and when you weren't terrified and soon enough we reach the clearing. I hadn't been able to see the building in the dark, but now I could see that it was entirely made of concrete with solar panels on the roof and long, thin windows along one side. It reminded me of a prison, where you could see out, but the windows were too small for any human being to squeeze out. Ranger pulled around to wear the sedan and the SUV were still parked. I could see Hatch and Owens still sprawled on the ground where they had fallen.

We climbed out and I walked a few feet towards the bodies. "The one on the left is Hatch, the other guy is Owens," I said. Melton pulled on gloves and went over to check both men for a pulse, but didn't find one.

"Where's the other guy? Wallace?" he asked. I walked towards the building and avoided looking at the dead men as I opened the door. I lead Ranger and Melton down the hall and pushed open the door to the room where they'd kept us. Wallace was still on the ground in a pool of his own blood. I wasn't sure what I had been expecting to find, but the sight of him had me breaking out in a sweat and hurrying outdoors again. I leaned against the Cayenne and gagged, but nothing came up. I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before. Ranger was at my side a beat later.

"Babe," he said quietly and rubbed my back. "You don't have go back in there."

I nodded and he opened the door so I could climb back into the car. I closed my eyes and didn't open them again until I heard the driver's side door open.

"Melton said we can go. He'll do any follow up over the phone or in Miami," he said. He pulled out of clearing and drove back down the path towards the road.

Neither of us spoke until we got to the interstate. I had been expecting him to turn left towards Asheville and was surprised when he turned right.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Atlanta. I need to get some sleep, but need to know we are somewhere secure. It's about three-and-a-half hours away. We can spend the night there and then head back to Miami tomorrow or the day after," he said. I could see the exhaustion in his face and hear it in his voice, and it brought all the emotions I had been pressing down to the surface like a volcanic eruption. I burst into tears.

"It's okay," I said as he made to pull over. "I've been keeping this in for eleven days. It's going to last a while," I said through sobs. "Just keep driving. I'll be fine."

Ranger put a hand on my leg and kept driving towards Atlanta as I cried for the next hour.


	28. Chapter 28

"I never thought about what it would be like to kill someone with a knife," I told Ranger as we crossed the state line into Georgia. "It's different than shooting someone with a gun. It felt more personal. And it wasn't exactly in self-defense. He wasn't trying to kill me at the time. Maybe I could have just stabbed him or something, but he was pretty strong and may have fought me." I had managed to get my crying under control and was now blotting away at my nose and eyes. Ranger had been silent while I cried, but had kept a supportive hand on my leg the entire time.

"You did what was necessary," he said. "In that moment, you were saving a baby from being taken from its mother, but you ultimately saved yourself, our child, and those other women. And possibly many more women. The men could have escaped once they knew we were onto them and started over somewhere else."

"And I know that," I said. "I do. I just keep running through the what-if scenarios in my head."

"Like what?" he asked. "I can't see anything with the potential to have gone differently."

I shrugged as I pulled another tissue out of pack in the glove compartment. "That I could have remembered my watch sooner and activated it."

"You told me you were unconscious from the time they grabbed you in Miami until you woke up in that room. And there weren't any signals getting out of that building. The FBI was having to go outside every time they had to make a call."

"I could have cooperated and not lost another two days to go outside. Then Macy may not have had to give birth in that room."

"You couldn't have known that would happen. And you don't know that she wouldn't have had the baby there. We hadn't been able to narrow down the property search much when we got the call that you had managed to escape. It may have been a few more days before we found you and she would have lost her baby by then."

Ranger pulled off an exit and into the parking lot of a large truck stop. It advertised three different restaurants under one roof, hot showers, and free wi-fi. He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine.

"Babe, you did what was necessary and you did the best you could," he said. "Don't overthink things you couldn't control. And don't beat yourself up over being human. I forgot you were wearing the watch. I hadn't re-activated it in our system and hadn't thought about having it checked by the tech guys to see if it was still good. It needed a software update and obviously a new battery. Even if you had been in range, it would have had glitches."

"I wasn't serious about using it when I went into labor," I told him. "I wasn't even planning to keep wearing it when I put it on that day, but then I realized I had missed having a watch, so I kept it on. I guess we just got lucky. Don't beat yourself up over it," I said, echoing his words.

He slid a hand back to cradle my neck and pulled me towards him for a kiss that was so tender and sweet that I momentarily forgot what we had just been through. God, I had missed him.

We went inside the truck stop and found we had the food options of a Wendy's, Cinnabon, or a healthy market thing. Naturally, I went to Cinnabon and Ranger hit the healthy market. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, as though he were afraid to look away or I might not be there. I got two cinnamon rolls, coffee, water and picked up a turkey sandwich from the healthy market place. My doctor had said I shouldn't eat lunch meat, but I figured if Serafina and I could escape from kidnappers and murderers, we could manage a turkey sandwich. Ranger had also gotten a turkey sandwich and some raw vegetables.

"You should hit up Cinnabon," I commented as he paid for our food. "You've lost weight. You can afford to splurge on the calories."

"I'll pass," he said as we headed out to the car. I ate my sandwich with gusto and started in on one of the cinnamon rolls. Ranger seemed like he had to force the food down and gave me the rest of his vegetables. He pulled car over to the pumps for fuel and I watched him in the side mirror while he stood next to the car. Now that I had cried for a solid hour, I was feeling pretty good. Within a couple of days, once I was back home in Miami and doing my usual stuff, I would be almost normal. I worried that Ranger wouldn't be. He had been there after several close calls with me and occasionally he had been angry or concerned, but had still been put together. I couldn't say the same thing about him at the moment. For the first time since I had known him, he seemed like he was on the verge of breaking.

We got back on the road and the GPS said we still had two hours until we arrived at our destination. I munched on the rest of his vegetables and forced myself to wait half an hour before starting on the second cinnamon roll. I saw Ranger glance over at it.

"I've only eaten healthy food for the last eleven days," I said. "It's probably the healthiest eating I've done my whole pregnancy, so I'm entitled to two Cinnabons. You may not have minded it there. It probably would have resembled your Army boot camp days except more estrogen and less exercise."

I had hoped for him to smile, but instead I got stony silence. I looked around for another subject. "Did you call my family?"

"No!" Ranger snapped, taking me surprised. "They still don't know that you're pregnant, or that you were ever missing. I'm not in the mood to listen to you bitch about your mother."

Oh, boy.

"I wasn't going to get angry," I said cautiously. "I figured you called them and that they would need an update to know that I was okay."

Ranger was silent for a solid minute. "Sorry. I'm tired. And don't make jokes about this."

I reached over and brushed his face with the fingertips of my bad hand. "Do you want to talk about it? I can't imagine what it was like for you."

He shook his head. "I can't."

"Hey," I said, tapping his arm. "It's me. You promised me I'd get all of you. That includes the bad stuff."

For one alarming moment, I thought Ranger might start to cry. I had never seen that look on his face before. The first word that came to mind was _anguish._ But whatever had passed over his face was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "I know, but I can't talk about it right now. I need to get to Rangeman so I know you're safe and then I can sleep."

"I can drive," I offered. "You could sleep until we get there."

He shook his head. "I need to crash and not be waken up until I'm ready."

I took in the scenery as we drove down the highway towards Atlanta. It was gorgeous, even on the first day of winter. Every now and then, I would see houses on the mountains, some isolated from anything else, others in groups of three or four. I imagined Ranger would be content to live somewhere so remote, but I didn't want to say that to him and risk having him misinterpreting my meaning. Ranger had brought my purse and cell phone to North Carolina, so I used the time to see if I had any missed calls or texts. He told me he had kept the phone on in case I tried to call my own number or someone with information called it for some reason, but hadn't answered calls or texts from anyone who didn't know I was missing. I saw two voicemails from Lula and one from Connie. There were also several texts of _Can't be bothered to return a phone call?_ and one _Don't make me come down there and beat your ass_ from Lula. I called Lula first.

"It's about fucking time," she said when she answered. "I've been trying to call you for almost two weeks. What's been going on?" 

I made her promise to keep the information to herself and only discuss it with Connie as I told her about the baby and about my abduction and the trafficking ring. Her reactions ranged from shocked outrage that that someone would dare take me, to pouting that I hadn't told her I was pregnant, and wanting to yell at Ranger for not calling her about it all. It took twenty minutes to get her off the phone, but she promised again not to saying anything to anyone. I had already told her about the estrangement from my family after telling them that Ranger and I had gotten married. She still hung out with my Grandma Mazur sometimes, who would always ask if Lula had talked to me and how I was doing.

"Your granny says your mom's real sorry about what she said," Lula conveyed to me towards the end of the call. "She said she tries to call you all the time but it just goes right to your voicemail."

"I have her blocked," I said. "I don't know what happens to her voicemails when she leaves them on there."

"There's a whole blocked voicemail section on your phone. Just scroll to the bottom of your voicemails and you'll see it," Lula said. "I block all kinds of stupid people."

I checked my voicemail section after I got off the phone with Lula and found a small folder at the very bottom labeled _Blocked Messages_. There were twenty-three, most from my mother, ranging in dates from the first day I blocked her number in October until two days ago. There were two from Valerie and three from Grandma Mazur's cell phone. I closed out my voicemail and called Connie to give her the same information I had told Lula.

By the time I got off the phone with Connie, I was starting to see signs for Atlanta. I'd been keeping an eye on Ranger to make sure he wasn't dozing off, but he was amazingly alert and in his zone. It was shortly after four when we arrived at Rangeman. I knew next to nothing about Atlanta, so I wasn't exactly sure where we were as he pulled into a five-story parking structure that was next to a nine-story office building. The first two floors were filled with various cars that clearly weren't Rangeman. The third level was blocked off by a metal door and required authorized access. Ranger pulled a card out of wallet, swiped it against a black console, and the gate opened. He drove up to the fourth floor and parked in a spot next to the elevator.

"Do you not own the entire building?" I asked as he grabbed our bag from the back of the car.

"No, we have floors four through nine," he said as he opened the elevator. "Atlanta is the smallest office I have and was the last one I opened. It got started because I bought out an existing company. This was their office and we've been using it since with some obvious updates. I'm always looking for a new building because I prefer having space that is entirely mine, but this has worked out well so far. An insurance company maintains the first three floors, so it isn't a risky situation."

We stepped into the elevator and Ranger swiped his card again on a plate next to the floor numbers. He pushed nine and the elevator rose quickly. It opened up to a small hallway with only one door. There was a table in the hallway next to the door. Ranger open the single drawer and revealed a small security box with a numbered keypad. He typed in a code and pulled out a key that he used to unlock the door.

"Security isn't as elaborate here," I commented as we stepped into the apartment, which also wasn't as elaborate as his other apartments. It was still high-end, but less so than Miami and Trenton.

"It's subtler here," he said. "Since I don't own the entire building, I'm limited in what I can do. And I don't want to scare the insurance people away. I prefer having them as neighbors to other businesses."

The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all open concept. The appliances were stainless steel. There were wood floors, an electric fire place in one corner, and comfortable-looking furniture. There was a door leading to a bathroom on the far side of the room and a small hallway. We walked down the hall and into a large bedroom with office equipment against the furthest wall in front of a large window. Ranger tossed the bag down on the floor and started to strip. I leaned against the door frame and took in the show.

"I'm not sure what there is for food in the kitchen, but you can go down to the sixth floor and get something in the kitchen there if you're hungry," he told me. He handed me the card that allowed me to get into the elevator and the key for the apartment. He pulled me close to him and kissed me deeply.

"Don't leave the Rangeman floors," he told me once we broke apart. "Let me sleep no matter what time. Only wake me up is there's a natural disaster or you go into labor."

I gave a salute. "Will do. I'm going to change if you don't mind."

I changed into sweats and a t-shirt while Ranger went to the bathroom and returned with a bottle of water from the kitchen. I wished him a good sleep and went out to the living room. I spent the next few hours watching television, wandering aimlessly around the apartment, feeling a little claustrophobic after spending the eleven days trapped in the same room, and scrounged around the kitchen for something that wasn't quinoa. In the time Ranger and I had been together, I had noticed that he averaged one or two days at each of the offices every month, so I wasn't expecting much when it came to food. I found more than I expected, but opted for the frozen pizza I found. It was an all-natural, thin crust, veggie pizza, but it would do. I fell asleep at some point on the sofa and woke up around midnight. I turned off the television and lights and went to the bedroom to sleep next to Ranger. He didn't look as though he had moved from the position he had been in since lying down. I was tempted to put a mirror under his nose to see if he was still breathing, but didn't want to risk him still being alive and wake him. I would just have to wait a few more hours to find out if I was going to be a widow.

Something woke me while it was still dark outside. My brain was foggy and for a minute I forgot where I was and almost panicked because I thought I was back in that room in the mountains. Once I remembered that I was in Atlanta and next to Ranger in bed I settled down and searched for the source of something that was off. I looked over at Ranger and could see that he was moving slightly and making some sort of soft noise. I thought for a second that he was having a dream and was about to shake him awake when I realized that he had a hand over his mouth and the sounds he was emitting were sobs. Ranger was crying.

I had no idea how long I laid next to him, unable to move or speak out of pure shock. I had never seen him cry. I had wondered on more than one occasion if he were even capable of it. I had seen him when his child had been kidnapped, when he had walked into a room about to be shot, and once when he thought he was pulling my dead body out of a cupboard, and he hadn't looked emotional during any of those situations. He was always calm and collected. The quieter he got, the angrier he was. This was completely out of character for him and I had no idea how to handle it. Did I try to comfort him, or pretend I didn't notice anything and let him handle it on his own? I didn't want to embarrass him, because I had little doubt he would be if he knew I was awake, but I also didn't want him to feel alone. I wanted him to know that he could cry with me and I wouldn't judge him. As much as it freaked me out, it made me realize that he was more human than I tended to acknowledge. I took a risk and reached over to lace my fingers through his. I gave him what I hoped conveyed a reassuring squeeze and he tightened his grip on my hand. Not painfully so, but in a way that I took to mean he needed that support. I could tell he was trying to get it together, but it took him a while to get his emotions under control. After a while he let go of my hand, pulled me close and spooned me while he rubbed small circles on my belly. We didn't talk, but eventually the movement stopped and I could tell he had gone back to sleep.

When I woke up again, there was sunlight coming through the blinds in the bedroom. Ranger was asleep on his stomach, one hand tucked under the pill. I gingerly climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, my pregnant bladder screaming at me for not getting up in the night and my left hand throbbed. The clock on the stove in the kitchen told me it was almost nine in the morning as I made a pot of coffee. I was having at least two cups this morning and the caffeine police could kiss my ass. If he caught me. I washed down some painkillers that should have been labeled placebo pills for the all the good they did.

I really wanted some chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, but I knew I would find neither chocolate chips nor pancake mix in a kitchen solely used by Ranger. My options were oatmeal, peanut butter on crackers, or some protein shakes. I opted for the peanut butter on crackers and dreamt of IHOP pancakes. I watched morning television while I ate and it dawned on me that Christmas was in three days and I hadn't bought Ranger anything. I hadn't anticipated being kidnapped, but even so I had no clue then what I was going to get him. Did having his child in a month count as a gift?

I peeked in on Ranger and found him lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. I poured us both coffee and took it into the bedroom. He sat up on the edge of the bed when he saw me come in. He accepted his cup and took a long sip. He rested his arms on his thighs and held the cup between his knees.

"How are you feeling?" I asked. "You got about seventeen hours of sleep."

"Better than yesterday," he said as he took another sip of coffee. He wasn't making eye contact with me.

"Do you want to talk?"

He stared at a spot on the floor for a long time without speaking. I counted the ticks of the clock on the wall and stopped when I got to one hundred. I was just about to leave him alone, assuming he wasn't going to talk when he started speaking. "I've never been so afraid."

I didn't say anything, but waited for him to continue. It felt like approaching a wild animal, move too fast and it would run away. He still didn't look up at me, but continued to talk. His tone was detached, as though he were reading from a script.

"At first, I thought I would find you quickly. I've always found you within a few hours. A day, at the most. Then it turned into multiple days. And they found a woman's body. She had been shot in the back and had her baby cut out of her while she bled to death. They threw her down a mountain in Georgia. The FBI figured she had been part of the same group as the other dead women and possibly connected to whoever had taken you and Macy. After that, I started struggling."

He took another drink of coffee before he started speaking again. "It got so bad that I was ," he tried to finish his thought, but ultimately just shook his head. "I don't think I can talk about this."

"I think you need to talk about it," I said. "You are so used to keeping everything bottled up and compartmentalized that you forget you don't have to do that with me. You've got me locked down," I said. I made a circle motion around my belly and tapped his platinum wedding band. "I'm not going anywhere, so you may as well tell me now or I'll nag you until one of us is dead."

I could see the internal struggle he was having. He was comfortable with his physical nakedness, but asking him to be comfortable with the emotional kind was like asking time to stand still. I had my suspicions as to what he would tell me, but I still needed to hear it.

"By the time Julie came to me with the information about Hatch, I was making plans on how to kill myself if you were dead and the baby either dead or beyond locating," he admitted.

For the second time in less than twelve hours, Ranger had managed to shock me into silence. I hadn't been expecting that. I had been expecting plots to torture the men holding me before killing them and disposing of the bodies in a way that would prevent identification. I had expected he would hunt them to the ends of the Earth if necessary. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until my body forced me to start breathing again.

"Why?" I asked, unable to form any other coherent thought.

Ranger made eye contact for the first time that morning. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious," I said. "I know it would have been awful, but you still have Julie and your family."

He stared at me for a second, as though he couldn't quite believe what I was saying, then startled me when he stood up, went over to a dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, shorts, and socks and started dressing.

"Are you going somewhere?" I asked as he reached for his shoes.

"For a run," he muttered.

"We were talking," I said as I followed him out of the room.

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"Hey," I said, grabbing his arm as he reached the door. "Don't walk out on me after you tell me you've been suicidal. We need to talk about this."

"What am I supposed to say?" he asked coldly. "My own wife can't understand why I'd rather be dead than have to live without her and our child."

I spent the next hour feeling numb, unable to imagine Ranger being anything but his calm, detached self. I had gotten to know him better than probably anyone in the past year, but I knew there were still so many layers of him that I hadn't reached and sometimes wondered if I ever could. I tried to figure out if I would be suicidal if he were to die. I didn't think so, but I couldn't say for sure. I had only ever been faced with one time in the past four years where his life had been in the balance. I had been petrified, and the result of watching him bleed out on my living room floor had been the realization that I was in love with him. Had every one of my close calls done something similar for him and uncovered some deeper layer of his feelings for me? And how different was that now that we were married and having a baby?

I spent the second hour he was gone feeling impatient. How long of a run was he going on? Was he running back to Miami and leaving me to drive back alone? I paced the apartment liked a caged animal. I took the key card and went to explore the remaining Rangeman floors in case he had come back and gone directly an office instead of coming up to the apartment. I found the control room on the sixth floor and spoke to someone named Henry, who said he hadn't seen Ranger. His office was locked and empty.

By the time he had been gone three hours, I was starting to panic. I called his cell phone and heard it ringing in the bedroom. He hadn't taken it with him. Where was he? Had he gotten sick or injured while running? Unwanted images of him holding a gun to his head kept popping into my head. I kept imagining Lola's devastation over her youngest son taking his own life and myself raising Serafina on my own. He wouldn't do it now. We were safe. I was back with him. He wouldn't leave me like this. Would he?

I was almost to the point that I was going to have someone take me out to look for him when I heard the apartment door open and saw him come in the door. Anger and relief overwhelmed me. I rushed over to him, with every intention of hugging him and being grateful he was alive, but instead my right arm swung out and my good hand made stinging contact with his left jaw. He was so surprised by it that he hadn't been braced for impact, which was so hard that he staggered against the wall.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I yelled, trying my best not to start crying again. I felt like I did that too much these days. "You tell me that you've been suicidal, get pissed off when I asked a simple question and leave, and then don't come back for three-and-a-half hours! Do you know how scared I've been?"

A sudden thought hit me like a bus. "Did you do this on purpose? Stay away, hoping I would worry that you were dead so that I'd have some idea of what it was like to think I'd lost you and that I could understand how you might be suicidal?"

"Of course not," he said. I could tell his cheek was hurting, but he wasn't going to touch it out of pride. Just like I wasn't going to admit that my good hand now throbbed almost as much as my left. "I went for a long run, sat for a while, and then walked back." He let his shoulders sag a little and embarrassment crossed his face. "I wasn't paying attention where I was going when I started running and got lost. I'm not very familiar with Atlanta, I didn't have my phone and didn't want to ask for directions, so it took me a while to find something familiar," he admitted painfully.

"So you weren't going to hurt yourself?"

"Babe," he said and pulled me close. "No. I'm not going to do anything."

"Couldn't you have sucked up your pride enough to stop and ask for directions or to use the phone so I would know you were okay?"

"I didn't think you would assume the worst, but given the way our conversation ended, I should have considered it," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry I smacked you," I said. "I wasn't planning on it. It just happened."

"I probably deserved it."

I raised my right hand up to examine it. The palm was beat red. "This hurts," I winced.

He put his lips to my palm. "Go sit down. I'll bring you a cold cloth for it."

I went to the sofa and sat while I heard him running water in the bathroom. He returned a minute later with a white washcloth. I held it in my right hand and found the stinging somewhat relieved by the cold.

"Can you really not understand why I felt that way?" he asked once we were settled together.

I sighed and leaned against him. "I know it would be awful to lose us. I'd be devastated if I lost you. But I don't know if I would feel like killing myself. I've never felt that way before."

"I have," he said. "More than once. But it's been several years since the last time."

I hadn't expected to hear that. "What happened?"

"The last time was after I got out of the army. I had trouble adjusting to civilian life. I was hypervigilant, angry, having nightmares. I couldn't handle it. Kinsey talked me into checking myself into a psych unit to get straightened out."

I knew Ranger wasn't the first or last soldier to come home and struggle to adjust. He hadn't talked much about his time in the military. I couldn't imagine what he had seen.

"But there have been other times too?" I asked.

Ranger shrugged. "The first time I remember I was about ten. I didn't have any friends. I got beat up a lot. My siblings tormented me and my parents always thought I was a troublemaker. I tried to take a whole bottle of Tylenol. I didn't manage to get them all down before I got scared and threw up. I went through it again when I was in juvie. I had been trying to figure out how to tie a noose, but couldn't get it right. Then a kid hanged himself while I was there and decided I didn't want to look like that. I went through it again right after I joined the Army because the woman I'd been dating broke up with me because she didn't want to date a soldier. But I went into basic training right after we broke up and it got better."

I gave an involuntary shudder. "I had no idea."

"Only Kinsey knows about the time when I was first out of the Army. I never told anyone else and I've never told anyone about the other times," he said. "No one knows about this time either, though I think my mother suspected. She wouldn't leave me alone. I told her I was flying up with the FBI because she wanted to come with me."

I hadn't even paid attention to the fact that he had come to North Carolina alone. He hadn't brought in men from Atlanta, or even had Tank fly down to meet him. I reached over to hold his hand.

"Are you past it?"

"I'm past actively planning to kill myself," he said. "But it takes a while to walk all the way back from the feelings. I felt like I was standing on a ledge looking down, ready to jump off the minute I knew there was nothing left to live for. I'm off the ledge now, but I'm still disoriented from being on it for an extended period of time."

I debated for a minute on my next question, then threw caution to the wind.

"What happened last night?" I asked. I saw him wince and he actually squirmed.

"Do we have to talk about it?"

"Yes," I said. I wrapped my arms around his neck so he would have to face me. I had never seen him this actively embarrassed before and it would have been adorable if the topic of conversation weren't so serious.

"I woke up in the night and forgot where I was. For a minute I forgot you were next to me because I was on the wrong side of the bed and I knew you had never been here with me. I thought I had dreamed it all, and then I saw you next to me and it was overwhelming," he admitted.

I pressed my lips to his. "Are you going to be okay? Are we good?"

He nodded, obviously relieved that I wasn't going to insist on talking about his crying anymore. "We're good, Babe. And yes, I'll be okay."

We agreed that we both wanted to head home that day, even though we wouldn't be able to leave until close to two in the afternoon and it was almost a ten-hour drive. Ranger said he was going to shower and change so we could get on the road.

"One more thing," I said as he headed towards the bathroom. I refrained from laughing because I could feel his dread from across the room. He was afraid of more emotion talk. "Don't shave. I'm liking the beard."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, but didn't say anything as he headed to the shower.

I worked on repacking our bag and changing my clothes while I waited on Ranger to get ready. I was excited when he emerged from the bathroom with the beard still in place, though it looked like he had trimmed it up a little bit. I wasn't normally into facial hair, but damn it looked good on him. It changed his look; made him sexier in a mature way. I put a hand on his stomach he walked past me and pulled him towards me for a kiss.

"Thank you for keeping it," I said, running my good hand over his face. "It's really sexy."

"I just kept it to hide the hand print on my face," he replied. I pulled the towel off his waist as the kiss deepened and started stroking him with my good hand. We were already leaving late in the day, another half hour or so wouldn't do much difference. I was surprised when he pulled away after a few seconds.

"We need to get going," he said as he reached for clothes. 

"Is half an hour really going to make that much difference?" I asked, feeling hurt. "I've never known you to turn down the opportunity to have sex."

He didn't say anything as I watched him pull on pants and a t-shirt. I watched him expectantly until he glanced my way. "What?" he asked.

"Why did you shoot me down?" I asked.

"Can we just get on the road?" he asked. "I've been embarrassed enough today."

I shook my head.

He sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. "Normally sex is a coping mechanism, but if my stress level crosses a certain threshold, I can't do it."

I took a minute to process his meaning. "So you can't get an erection if you've been too stressed?"

"Yes."

"And this has happened before?"

"A few times. It'll get better in a few days," he said, tossing clothes into the bag I had on the bed and zipping it up. "Let's get going. Traffic is going to be heavy with Christmas being in a couple of days." I followed him silently out of the apartment and felt another overwhelming wave of sadness at everything he had been through in my absence. I also sent a quick prayer up, asking for the return of Ranger's virility, just in case God was real.


	29. Chapter 29

I had hoped our return home would help us get back to normal, but the first week back was anything but normal. I was officially on maternity leave now, which meant I didn't have to go to work anywhere. I decided to spend my time wisely, making a to-do list of things I wanted to get done before the baby was born. There were things I needed to buy at the store. I needed to open the baby supplies I had already gotten and set them out in the nursery then wash her clothes. I still needed to figure out how to install the car seat base in the car and order a second car seat base for Ranger's car because I had been told those things were difficult to secure so you don't want to move them, and pack a bag for when it was time to go to the hospital. I also had the urge to clean the whole house, which Lola told me was called _nesting._ I wasn't thrilled with the idea of spending my last few weeks without a newborn cleaning and running around like crazy, but I couldn't seem to help myself.

While I was busy nesting, Ranger was busy working from the home office and barely letting me out of his sight. I was lucky to use the bathroom without him in there with me. He had refused to go into his office, insisting he could work from home just as well, which was a complete lie because Rangeman employees were dropping things off or picking things up at least twice a day. He was attending meetings via phone call or video-conference and delegating work onto Mario. I reminded him that he had planned to take two weeks off when the baby was born, but he didn't care. Anytime I said I needed to go out, he went with me. If I went out to check the mail, I would see him watching me out the window, barely resisting the urge to follow me outside. We had gone to his parent's house on Christmas Day, but he had refused to go out fishing with his father and brother like he had the last two years, insisting on remaining at the house with the women because he wouldn't leave me alone. Lola had managed to pull me aside and ask how he was doing. I hadn't given her all the details, but told her he was having a hard time not being overprotective.

As much as I loved Ranger and had missed him while I had been gone, I needed some space. I knew he was just being overprotective because it was his way of coping, but I was going crazy. Apart from the little bit of time at the Atlanta apartment, I hadn't had any time alone in nearly three weeks and that little bit of time, I had been stuck indoors. I needed to get out and go shopping by myself or to just drive my own car around the city listening to whatever music I wanted to without wondering if it was making Ranger insane. By the time a week had passed, I decided I was over it and was leaving that house on my own. Ranger would just have to deal with it. He could track my car and cell phone all over Miami and keep a Rangeman patrol car within a mile of my location for all I cared. I just needed a break. I needed to go to the store to buy things for my hospital bag, like travel toiletries, a new toothbrush and a few items that Lola had recommended, like certain brands of feminine hygiene products and medicated cooling pads to help me feel a little better after giving birth. I shuddered, remembering the scene when Macy had given birth to her baby. I really didn't want that to be me, but I didn't have much choice. I doubted Ranger wanted to stand around staring at pads for twenty minutes while I tried to figure out which would hurt the least brushing up against my traumatized nether regions. I hatched a plan to have myself ready to go, keys in hand, my list and cell phone in my purse which was hanging from my shoulder. I went down to the door of the office and looked in on him.

"I need to get a few things at the store. I'll be right back," I said. I was glad to see he was barefoot. I knew his weapons were locked up in the security box that I had insisted he purchase once we got back. He needed to get into the habit of securing his weapons once we had a child in the house.

"Give me five minutes and I'll go with you," he said, not taking his eyes off the computer screen.

"No," I said firmly. "I'm going by myself. I'll be right back."

I walked down the hall towards the back door, but he caught up to me in the kitchen.

"I said I'll go with you," he insisted.

"And I said no. I need some space," I said. "You're smothering me."

"Deal with it."

"You deal with it," I shot back. "I haven't been alone anywhere in almost three weeks. I need some time to myself. And I doubt you want to stand around the feminine hygiene aisle at CVS with me. I'm fine, Carlos. I don't need you to look out for me every second."

"Well I'm not fine," he snapped. "I need to know you're safe."

"For how long?" I asked, throwing my hands in the air. "You can't do this forever. We've been home a week and you haven't gone anywhere unless I was with you. You can barely go fifteen minutes in another room before you have to come check on me. I was held hostage for eleven days by monsters. I am not going to be held hostage in my own home by my husband."

I stormed out of the house as quickly as I could move and climbed into my car. I half-expected him to follow me out and try to jump in with me, but he didn't. I backed out and pulled away from the house, checking my rearview mirror every few minutes to see if he was following me in his own car. But he never did.

I walked around CVS, filling my basket with a few necessities and lots of non-necessities, feeling guiltier with each aisle. I had just yelled at my husband, who had been so agonized by my abduction that he had been suicidal and told him he was holding me hostage. Part of me knew that telling him I needed space had been necessary, but the other part knew I hadn't done it the right way. The truth was I felt like I was on eggshells around him. I was always alert to his mood and making sure I didn't say anything that would bother him. It was a complete contrast to our normal life. Ranger was generally very easy to live with because of his quiet manner and mostly laid-back attitude when it came to most things in our relationship. There were certain things where he wanted a say or had a particular expectation, but there were many things that he left with me and just went along with whatever choice I made. I just wanted things to be normal again, but I was afraid that might never happen with him.

I returned home half an hour later and was surprised that I didn't find Ranger sitting in the kitchen, waiting for me to walk in the door. I felt a sinking feeling in my gut. I left my bags on the kitchen counter and went to look for him. I found him sitting in the chair in the nursey, his right ankle resting on his left knee. He was taking in the room and glanced my way when he heard me push the door open further. I paused for a minute in the doorway, then went over to sit on the ottoman to face him.

"I didn't handle that well," I said.

"No kidding."

I bounced one knee while I figured out the next thing to say. "I love you, Carlos. You're my best friend. I love being with you, but I need you to back up a little. I know you went through something horrible too, but this isn't the way to deal with it. I think you need to talk to someone. A professional someone."

Ranger's eye snapped up to meet mine and his expression went blank. "A therapist, you mean."

I nodded. "I'll go with you. I'm feeling pretty good, but I'm sure there's something I could talk about. I'm worried about you. It scares me to think you might never be normal again."

That made him snort. "I've never been normal, Babe."

"Normal for you," I clarified. "Right now, you look like there is something eating you alive from the inside. I would have thought you'd be feeling at least a little better by now."

Ranger stared at me for almost a minute. It reminded me of the day he first told me that he had a daughter. I knew then he had been sizing me up, deciding if I was trustworthy enough to bring into the fold. I wasn't sure what was going through his head now. He put his leg down and pulled me off the ottoman and into his lap. I wasn't sure that I would fit these days, but somehow, I did. I snuggled into his chest and listened to his heart beat.

"I think I'll be fine with a little more time," he said after a while. "And once the baby gets here. But if I'm not better by then, I'll talk to someone."

"And are you going to give me a little breathing room?" I asked.

"Yes," he said, though after an extended silence. "I know I'm driving you crazy. I'll try to back off."

The sound of Ranger's cell phone ringing in the other room ended our moment a few minutes later. I got off his lap and headed to the kitchen to unpack my bags from CVS. New Year's Eve was in two days and I had bought provisions for sitting in front of the television watching Anderson Cooper get embarrassed by Kathy Griffin for hours on end. Reese's cups, Twizzlers, and Sparkling Grape Juice since I couldn't have champagne. It seemed like a depressing way to ring in what was promising to be one of the biggest years of our lives. It wasn't much different from what I had done the previous New Year's Eve, except I was substituting the booze with grape juice and would hopefully be able to replace my old vibrator with my husband.

"Let's go out for New Year's Eve," I suggested to Ranger when he walked into the kitchen ten minutes later. "We can have one last date before the baby is born."

He seemed thrown by the suggestion and took a minute to process the information. "What do you want to do?"

I shrugged. "I was thinking dinner and then going somewhere to wait until midnight. Maybe a club or something, then we could dance if we feel like it. I think we need to get out of the house and relax for a little while."

"Babe, you're about to pop. Do you think you're going to feel up to dancing?"

I put my hands on my hips. "I am not some wilting flower just because my uterus is currently occupied."

Ranger put his hands up in surrender. "That wasn't what I was trying to say. If you want to go out, we can go out. Did you have somewhere in mind?"

I shook my head. "You know the area better than I do. Surprise me."

And he did. He told me on New Year's Eve that we had reservations at eight at a restaurant called _Orquídea_ and that we would go to a club a couple of blocks away from the restaurant to round out the evening. He said he had gone to high school with the guy who owned both places and had kept in contact with him, which was the only way we had been able to get into anywhere nicer than a Taco Bell on such short notice. I went out and bought another maternity dress, which was probably silly considering I wasn't sure if we would have any more children, but decided it was fine since the dress had been thirty-percent off. It was a shade of black called cocoa noir, which seemed to appear closer to purple in certain lights. It had a deep V-neck that showed off some cleavage and fell to just above my knees. I paired it with some black flats because I knew it would be the height of stupidity to wear heels all night when I was this big.

I tried to strike a sexy pose in the doorway of our bedroom, but struggled to find one that didn't look ridiculously awkward, especially with my bandaged hand. Thankfully, Ranger had been looking down at his phone and hadn't seen my failed attempts.

"How do I look?" I asked. I turned in a circle which made the skirt of the dress flair out.

Ranger was wearing a black blazer, black dress shirt open at the collar and black trousers. He gave me an appreciative once-over.

"Sexy," he replied earnestly.

"Good to know," I said, picking up the clutch that contained my lipstick, mascara, ID, money, and cell phone. I gave him a kiss as he approached me and guided me towards the back door. "I want you to be able to enjoy yourself tonight. You can drink as much as you want because you know I'll be sober and can drive us home. And you can leave with someone you found attractive beforehand and won't regret it the next morning."

I sat looking through my cell phone as we battled traffic. I had never listened to the messages in my blocked box. There were now twenty-four, as my mother had left another message on Christmas Day. I decided to spend the time in the car listening to them so I could clear them out and start the new year fresh. The first few messages from October were still hostile. How could I call her a bitch? She had raised me better than that. She didn't want me to get hurt, etc. I started deleting messages that began with that without evening listening to the entire thing. Grandma Mazur and Valerie had been attempting to mediate between us, saying they were talking to my mother. The messages stopped being so hostile after Thanksgiving and became more conciliatory. Could we just agree to disagree and put this behind us? She had missed me at Thanksgiving dinner. Would I please call her so we could work this out? The messages moved more towards apologetic until Christmas Day. That message sounded almost tearful.

" _Hello, Stephanie. This is your mother. It's Christmas Day. I don't know you if listen to my messages or not. But I wanted to say that I'm sorry for everything I said. You have every right to be angry with me. I've been talking to Father Alberto lately about what happened. He reminded me that it isn't my place to criticize you. I'm your mother and my job is to love you, no matter what. And it was wrong of me to be so harsh about Carlos. I don't know him well enough to say such things about him. But I know he has saved your life several times. And from what I have seen of him, I don't think he would have committed to a life with you if it wasn't what he wanted. I don't know what else to do to fix things between us. I won't call again, at least now for a while. I don't want you to think it's because I don't care. I figure you need some space. But I love you, Stephanie."_

I jumped when Ranger's hand touched my leg. I looked over at him to a concerned expression on his face. "Is something wrong?" he asked, reaching up to wipe at a tear I hadn't realized was on my cheek.

"I'm fine," I said, putting my phone away. "I was just listening to the messages from my mother. She finally apologized on Christmas Day."

I looked out the window at the somewhat familiar surroundings, but couldn't quite figure out where we were. "She said she won't call for a while, so I can have some space." He gave my knee a squeeze that let me know he understood while I checked my mascara in the visor mirror.

I put my mother's message at the back of my mind as we arrived at the restaurant. It was classy, but not over the top. There were orchids of every kind around the dining room, which I learned was because the name of the place was the Spanish word for orchid. Ranger ordered something healthy with chicken and vegetables and a glass of white wine. I ordered a pasta thing so that I didn't have to use utensils in both hands. While it no longer throbbed, it still hurt to flex my left hand too much or to attempt to hold something small. I had been referred to a specialist to have it examined more thoroughly, but they didn't schedule an appointment until February. It was likely that I would need an MRI to check for any tissue damage and they didn't want to do that while I was pregnant.

"Tank wants to transfer down here." Ranger told me as we ate. "He says it's because he wants to be closer to his parents in Louisiana, but I told him I'll only sign off on it if he admits it's because he misses me."

"What did he say?"

"He mumbled something that I assumed was some sort of admission, so I told him to start packing."

I shook my head. "You have missed him just as much as he has missed you, so let's not pretend this was all on him."

He made no comment, but finished the rest of his wine. He knew I was right.

While I ate a slice of cheesecake for dessert and Ranger enjoyed an unheard of second glass of wine, I reflected on how things had been since I told him he was smothering me. Ranger still wasn't quite himself yet, but he had been able to relax a little more. I had managed to go out without him twice more and he had even gone into his office for a couple of hours each day. I knew it was stressful for him, but I felt like it was necessary for him to move on from what had happened. I was also amazed at how far we had come in a year. This time last year, I had no idea if we would ever be able to fix things. I had been hurting and angry, wondering if I had ever really known him at all. And now we were married and having a baby in less than three weeks.

"What did you do last New Year's Eve?" I asked.

"Worked and hated myself," he said. "You?" 

"Drowned my loneliness and hatred towards you in booze, chocolate and self-induced orgasms."

I felt him nudge him my foot with his under the table. "I'd like to hear more about the self-induced orgasms," he said with a wink. I kicked him in the leg.

Ranger told me the club we were going to was only two blocks away, so I suggested we walk rather than spend twenty minutes trying to find another place to park. It was a beautiful night and everyone we passed was in a celebratory mood.

"I'm glad you had connections." I said as we moved down the sidewalk. "That was a nice restaurant. The same guy owns that place and the club we're going to?" 

Ranger nodded. "He was a couple of years ahead of me in school, but we were always chasing the same girls and smoking together. We've kept in touch over the years. He had connections in areas I didn't and it was helpful at times. He's been trying to go legitimate in the past few years. He has a nine-year-old son that's important to him. He doesn't want him getting mixed up in the life he had."

I realized as we walked that the area was looking more familiar. "Where are we? I feel like I should know this street."

"You should, considering you lived right over there for three months." Ranger said, pointing to the motel on the opposite side of the road.

"I didn't spend a lot of time walking around at night," I said. "But now I know exactly where I am."

We passed several clubs on the road, where lines flowed out the doors. I kept expecting us to stop, but we kept going. When I saw _Bamboo_ come into view, I held my breath and hoped we would keep walking past it. Instead, Ranger guided me right to its door.

Crap.

"Here it is," Ranger said. He gave his name to the bouncer and we were allowed inside ahead of the long line of people. A server in a tight black dress informed us that we had a reserved table and we followed her through the crowded room. My stomach did an uncomfortable flip as I saw Dante Salazar on the opposite side of the room, laughing with a group of scantily-dressed women.

"I have to tell you something," I said to Ranger as we walked. "Do you remember me telling you about how I had a one-night stand on Valentine's Day?"

"Yes," Ranger said, perplexed. "Why?"

"Well, it was with the guy who owns this place," I said awkwardly. "Dante Salazar."

I couldn't read the expression on Ranger's face as we arrived at our table in a recessed area of the floor. It had comfortable-looking white chairs and couches flanked with short black tables. He thanked the woman after she removed the reserved sign and left. I was about to ask if he wanted to leave when I realized he was laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked, feeling embarrassed and annoyed. "This isn't funny."

"Babe," he said and pulled me down to sit on the couch so that our thighs touched. "This is pretty funny. I had no idea."

"I seem to remember you being really pissed off when I slept with Barajas in New York," I reminded him. "Now you're laughing when you find out that I slept with a guy you know from school. Why the one-eighty?"

"Completely different circumstances," Ranger said as another server approached us. He ordered a bourbon and I got a virgin mojito. The server gave me a snotty look and reminded me of the two drink minimum. I put a hand on my enormous belly and said she could charge me for the alcoholic version if it was a problem. Once she was out of earshot, I turned back to Ranger.

"Explain the difference to me," I said.

"Barajas worked for me. He was your colleague and even if you weren't on duty at the moment, you were still on the job," he said simply. "And that was just the professional problems I had with it. Personally, I was frustrated that you would have sex with him and not me, especially after you made such a big deal over keeping things professional between us. And I felt threatened. Barajas was laid-back and fun. I was afraid you would want to start dating him."

It felt so weird to be talking about it so casually now when it had been such an enormous problem for us barely a year earlier. And the fact that he had been threatened by Barajas' interest in me made me feel a mixture of emotions.

"And the difference with Salazar?"

"We were in a bad place then," he said. "Neither of us knew what was going to happen. I obviously didn't know until now that it was Salazar you slept with, but it never bothered me that you had. I had hurt you and you just wanted someone to make you feel better. I get that. Plus, now that I know who it is, I know that there isn't some guy walking around Miami pining for the woman he fucked on Valentine's Day. And then there's the fact that you aren't the first woman we've both had sex with."

I crinkled my nose in disgust. "He could be pining for me. You did."

"True, but we have history. Besides, he won't remember you," Ranger said as the server brought our drinks back to the table. I gave him a pissy glare that he ignored.

"I know I'm not a supermodel. Especially right now. And I'm kind of a prude in bed. But I'm not completely forgettable," I countered as I sipped my mojito. It wasn't the same without the rum, but it would have to do.

"You are to someone like him."

"How do you forget someone you had sex with?" I asked. "He took me home with him."

"And you were probably one of three or four women that week."

I noticed Salazar headed our way, his gaze resting on Ranger. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Care to bet on it?" Ranger asked with a smirk.

"Sure," I said, putting my drink down on the table next to me. "If he remembers me, you have to change all of the baby's diapers for the first two weeks. And you have to get her in the night when she wakes up to be fed and bring her to me, then put her back to bed so I can sleep."

Ranger considered this for a moment. "Okay, and if he doesn't remember you, we do that thing we both liked in Puerto Rico, even if you refuse to admit it."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "You can fulfill your debt once you've recovered from having the baby."

I shook my head in disgust. Men were pigs. But there was no way that he was going to win. I accepted his proposal and waited patiently for Salazar to arrive at our table. He was wearing a suit similar to the one I had seen him in on Valentine's Day, except this was slightly darker.

"Carlos Manoso," he said, shaking Ranger's hand as he sat down on the end of couch next to him. "How the hell are you?"

"Can't complain," Ranger replied. "This is my wife, Stephanie."

Salazar looked taken aback by this and reached out to shake my hand. I examined him for any sign of recognition, but didn't see anything.

"Fuck me, I thought you were just bullshitting me when you said you wanted to get in here with your wife," Salazar said with a smile and a shake of his head. He eyed my belly with interest. "And you're having a kid?"

"In a couple of weeks," I said.

"What happened to you?" Salazar asked Ranger as a server brought him a vodka neat.

"I found a good woman to put up with me."

"I don't even have to know her to know she's too good for you," Salazar said. Still no sign that he recognized me. "Have you guys ever been here before?"

Here was my opening to throw out some hints. "I have. A couple of times. I brought a couple of friends with me back in January and then I was here again on Valentine's Day." I patted Ranger's arm. "We were going through an off-again phase and I hadn't wanted to spend the evening sitting at home alone."

Ranger looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. He knew what I was doing. But Salazar didn't seem to register a thing. Damn it.

"Here I thought I was going to be telling you about how easy it is to take home a sexy woman from this place, but you brought your own and you get to keep her," Salazar told Ranger. "More for me then."

"I'm sure you'll pick up the slack for me."

Salazar threw his head back and gave a hearty laugh. "You know that's right. I've got my eye on about three women right now. Who knows, maybe it'll be a triple-header tonight,' he said winking. The black guy I had seen talking to him once before appeared and said that someone was looking for him. Salazar stood and clapped Ranger on the shoulder.

"I need to visit some other guests, but congratulations. I guess we all have to start growing up some time," he said. I watched him walk away feeling frustrated that I had lost the bet with Ranger and somehow a little hurt. Not that I had any feelings for Salazar, but it bothered me that I had done something intimate with him and he had completely forgotten it. I saw satisfied smirk on Ranger's face as he finished his bourbon and signaled to our server that he wanted another.

"Don't give me that look," I said sourly. "Maybe he was just being polite and didn't want to make us uncomfortable by mentioning it."

That made Ranger laugh for the second time that evening. I loved seeing him relaxed and laughing after the terrible weeks we had been through. I just wished it wasn't at my expense.

"Babe, if he had remembered you he would still be here bragging about it," he said. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and scooted closer to me. I wasn't used to him being this affectionate in public, but didn't mind it. "He would want me to know what positions you were in, how many times he made you come and would probably make some comment about how small my dick must be for you to still be so tight."

I smacked him on the chest. "Gross. But that doesn't mean he won't remember me later."

"You are grossly underestimating the amount of pussy he gets," Ranger said. "He won't remember her by the end of the week." He had nodded upwards and I saw Salazar walking with a woman towards his private booth. She was laughing and he gave her ass a firm grope as they disappeared. I shook my head and polished off my drink. Seriously. He had just left our table.

"I have a feeling his number isn't the only one that has been underestimated," I said once the server had returned with his bourbon and I had asked for a Shirley Temple. "I think you rounded down on that number you threw out at Thanksgiving."

"Definitely," he said. "That number was way off."

I made a disgusted noise. "I had thought I might be insulting with that high of a number. What made you pick eighty-five anyway?"

He paused with his drink halfway to his mouth and looked at me skeptically. When I looked back at him, expecting an answer, he leaned over to place a kiss on my neck and then one under my left ear.

"I love how naïve you are," he said, his lips brushing my earlobe as he spoke.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw your answer. There's no way we could have both come up with that number."

I let out a scandalized gasp. "Cheater! I'm going to tell your sister."

"Do you want to know the actual number?" he asked.

"Do you know the actual number?"

"Plus or minus five."

I shook my head. "I'm good. I'll just be satisfied with the knowledge that I'll be the last woman you sleep with. Well, I'd be better be at any rate."

There was a slightly awkward silence that followed that statement. Ranger had still been experiencing a stress-induced impotence despite our combined efforts. I had told him it was fine and that I would be out of commission for a while anyway, which would leave him plenty of time to recover. Surely, we wouldn't end up being one of those sexless marriages. Or resorting to Viagra in our thirties.

We enjoyed each other's company and conversation as the evening passed. Ranger wasn't drunk, but the wine at dinner and the bourbon at the club had definitely relaxed him. He was talkative and flirty, openly affectionate as he occasionally kissed my neck and discreetly stroked one of my breasts. I was really turned on by his behavior, but kept it in check. I didn't want to ruin our evening. I eventually suggested we dance as the music slowed down to sultry songs that kept the couples dancing close. We walked out to the dance floor and continued to talk while we danced. The DJ would occasionally tell the room how close we were to midnight between sets. When he announced that we were fifteen minutes out, the energy in the room started to rise. In the middle of a sultry Latin song that I couldn't understand, Ranger grabbed my good hand and started pulling me away from the dance floor.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He pulled me to the edge of the room and down a hallway with multiple doors on either side. I realized they were single-occupant, unisex bathrooms. I remembered Connie telling Lula and me about how all the bathrooms at the club were that way, each one containing a machine that sold condoms. Salazar obviously encouraged hook-ups. Ranger tried three doors on one side of the hall before finding one that was unlocked. Once he was sure it was empty, he pulled me inside and locked the door behind us.

"What ," I began, but was cut off as he pushed me into the wall and kissed me. He rubbed against me as he caressed one of my breasts and I felt an unmistakable erection digging into me.

"We can't let this go to waste," he said as he reached under my dressed and started pulling down my underwear. I let out a surprised gasp as he started to stroke me.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked as my brain struggled to put together coherent thought. "I'm nine months' pregnant."

Ranger unzipped his pants and turned me around to face the mirror over the sink. He bent me over and I held onto the sink with my good hand while I used my left arm to support my huge belly. I felt the cool air hit the sensitive areas of my body as Ranger lifted my dress. The concerns of how this would go were lost once he was inside me. He had his left hand on my hip to keep us close and used his right hand to support my belly. I could watch him in the mirror as he thrust into me from behind. He was so at ease and lost in the moment that it made my heart break a little to know that he hadn't felt this way in so long. I actually felt tears in my eyes as I came a few minutes later, the emotional toll of everything briefly overwhelming me. By the time Ranger finished, I had myself pulled together and had managed to subtly wipe away a tear as he zipped up his trousers.

"That was amazing," I said breathlessly as I made sure my dress was back in place.

"Agreed," he said. He kissed me deeply and stroked a breast again. "I'm glad to be back in business."

"That's a business I will gladly support," I said. We heard someone try the door to find it locked. "I think we're holding up prime real estate now that we've finished our business."

Ranger unlocked the door and we walked out, passing two young guys who quickly shut and locked the door after us. The countdown to midnight was at fifteen seconds as we walked through the club. We didn't stop at our table, but headed towards the door. He made a comment in my ear about getting home to celebrate more in bed and handed me my clutch, which he had put into his jacket pocket while we were dancing. The sound of the new year being announced rang through the air as we walked out the front door. Ranger paused long enough to kiss me before continuing our stroll back to the car down the road.

"Where are my underwear? I asked as the wind blew up my dress.

"I have them," he said, patting his other pocket.

"Why didn't you give them back to me?" I said. "I'm feeling a little exposed right now."

He gave me a lascivious smile as the sounds of people shooting off fireworks rang through the air. I shook my head and leaned into him as we walked past people hugging their friends or kissing their partners on the sidewalk, some yelling _Happy New Year_ at the top of their lungs.

We would have never guessed that fifty-one hours and thirteen minutes into the new year, Serafina Grace Manoso would make her world debut. Ranger had been amazingly supportive during my thirty-nine hours of labor, holding my hand and bracing one of my legs while I gave birth. He had watched the whole thing, which had made me worried he would never want to have sex with me again. I told him as much once we were alone with our new daughter a few hours later.

"Not possible, Babe," he said sleepily as he watched me hold the baby on my chest. She was only four hours old as the sun started appearing on the horizon outside our window. Ranger had dark circles under his eyes from being awake for two days straight, despite me telling him to sleep while I had gone through contractions. I had refused an epidural, not particularly comfortable with the feeling of being confined while I gave birth and was currently regretting it. I would likely still be numb right now instead of aching from the waist down. Not to mention the pain of passing six pounds and twelve ounces of baby out of my body. They had given me painkillers, better ones now that I was no longer pregnant, but they didn't take the discomfort away completely.

I nestled my head against the little pink hat on the baby's head and breathed in her scent. I had a flashback to Macy holding her baby for the first time after I had killed Larry and remembered her doing the same thing. My eyes and throat started to burn.

"We were only thirteen days away from losing all of this," I said as tears hit my cheeks. "If she had come thirteen days earlier or if I hadn't managed to get out by now, we would have lost her."

Ranger came over to sit on the edge of my bed. He kissed the top of my head and put a hand on the baby's back. "But that didn't happen. She's here with us because her mother loved her enough to kill for her before she was even born."

I snuggled her closer to me and reached up to place my hand on top of his. "I need you to promise me that no matter what, if something ever happens to me, that you won't leave her alone."

"Babe," he said, leaning his head against mine. "I promise you that would never happen."

Ranger had been showing signs of improvement since New Year's Eve and I believed him when he said it, but I still watched him closely for signs of strain. I told myself to move past it for now and to just enjoy our first few hours together as a family. But there was one thing still bothering me and Ranger had reminded me of it when he said that I had loved Serafina enough to kill for her. I thought back to my own mother, who had rundown a man with her car as he had chased me. She had been freaked out afterwards, but her immediate instinct had been to hurt the man trying to kidnap her daughter. I had never called her back after her apology voicemail and she had kept her word and hadn't called me again.

"Where's my phone?" I asked Ranger. He located it on the table beside my bed and handed it to me. I dialed a number I had memorized when I was three years-old and waited while it rang.

"Hello?" my mother said. I bit my bottom lip as emotion overwhelmed me. I took so long to respond that she had to say "Hello?" again.

"Hi, Mom," I said after finding my voice.

"Stephanie!" I could hear relief in her voice. "How are you? Did you get my messages?"

"I did," I said. "And I'm really good. I had a baby today."

"What?" she asked, clearly shocked. It was obvious that word had never gotten back to her that I was pregnant.

"Her name is Serafina and she's perfect," I said. "I want you to come see her."

I heard my mother suppress a sob. "Oh, Stephanie. You're a mother." Tears were pouring down my own cheeks by this point. "I'll be there as soon as I can," she said with a sniffle. "I'm sorry, Stephanie."

"We can talk later, Mom," I said as the baby started to stir. "I think she's ready to eat again. Let me know when you'll be here."

"I will. I love you."

"I love you, Mom," I said. I could hear her yelling at my father as the call disconnected. I set my phone on the bed and wiped my tears away before getting Serafina positioned to nurse. It was only the third time, but she latched on to my nipple like a pro. I found Ranger watching us when I glanced at him.

"You needed that," he said. "I can already tell you feel better."

I nodded. "I do feel better. I feel ready to forgive her and move on. I hope I never act like that with Serafina, but if I ever screw up, I hope she'll be able to forgive me."

I tried again to get him to sleep, but he refused to do so until Serafina was fed and changed. He told me to rest and that he would sleep too once she was asleep. I watched him hold her for a while, the tender look on his face and the tone of his voice as he spoke to her in Spanish overwhelming me. We were a family now and we were going to be a good one.


	30. Chapter 30

**Five years later…**

"Do you think it was a coincidence that Grandma Mazur and Bella Morelli died within hours of each other?" I asked Valerie as we mingled with relatives at the funeral home.

"I think they were waiting each other out. They've probably just moved their feud up to heaven," Valerie responded as we gave similar fake smiles and waves at cousins whose names we couldn't quite remember. My poor, deluded sister, thinking our grandmother and Bella Morelli would be getting into heaven.

"I definitely can't believe it was a coincidence that their viewings were held at the same time and their funerals are back-to-back tomorrow," I added. "The funeral home just wants these two out of their lives forever and is killing two birds with one stone. No pun intended."

Valerie headed towards the front of the room to stand with our mother by the casket and I kept moving on around the room. My father was holding my nine-month-old son, Matthew, because he needed an obvious reason besides the real one for his happy mood and the unfitting smile that had been on his face for the past three days since Grandma Mazur died. He had decided hanging on to his only grandson the was perfect excuse. As I passed, my father stood up and shoved Matthew into my arms.

"He pooped," he said and left the room before I could suggest he change his diaper.

"Are you stinky?" I asked Matthew, who squealed with delight. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went in search of the diaper bag in the lobby. I had left it on the little shelf under the coat rack and had to push aside several long coats to locate it. When I stood up and turned around, I found myself face-to-face with Joe Morelli, who didn't look as surprised as I felt.

I hadn't seen Morelli since moving to Miami. My mother had told me during her visit to Miami after I had given birth to Serafina that Morelli had taken a job in the private sector and moved to Chicago. He had later met a woman and got married. The last I heard, they had two little boys. He was still sexy, but he was starting to look all of his forty-three years.

"Hey, Joe," I said. "I was sorry to hear about Bella."

"No one was sorry to hear about Bella," he replied. "Even our relatives were celebrating."

"Well, I'm sorry if you're sad," I corrected. "Is that better?"

He shrugged and looked at Matthew. "He has your curly hair and blue eyes, but he looks just like Ranger."

"He's the best combination of us, both physically and so far in his personality," I said, shifting Matthew to my other hip. "Our oldest daughter looks just like him and acts just like me, and our middle daughter looks just like me, but acts just like Carlos."

"Carlos?" Morelli commented.

"It's his name."

"So, three kids, huh?" he asked. I could tell he was uncomfortable. "How are you liking married life and being a mother?"

"I'm really happy," I said. "I hadn't been sure that it was anything I ever wanted, but then it just sort of happened and it has been amazing. And I didn't realize how much more you love your spouse after you have kids. How about you? I heard you're married and have a couple of kids."

Morelli looked uneasy, and I realized I may have waxed a little too much about my happy life when he had wanted to be in Ranger's shoes not that long ago. "I love my kids. My wife left me for someone else a while back."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That must be tough."

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. "We haven't been happy for most of the time we've been married, so it wasn't a surprise. She left the kids with me and moved out to Oregon. I'm getting sole custody, and I'm looking to move back to the area so my family can help out."

"What would you do for a job here? My mother said you were in the private sector these days."

"I head the loss prevention for a big delivery company. I'm looking around here for something similar, if the company I work for won't let me transfer to their Trenton branch. I have to travel a lot, so I need someone who can keep my boys for a few days at a time."

Listening to Morelli worry about who would take care of his children while he worked made me even more thankful for LaShay, who had been working as our nanny and housekeeper since Serafina was three months' old. She had called me up on Valentine's Day that year to say she had just given birth to her baby boy, who she had decided to keep and had aptly named Valentino. She had surprised me when she said that she was in Miami. The placement organization that had been helping her get her life back together had operations in Miami and she had taken them up on living there since she knew there would be a familiar face around. I had gone to see her at the hospital and we introduced our babies. She had told me that her case worker was trying to get her a job in childcare, since that was what she had done in Georgia before being abducted, but all of them still charged employees a high fee for having their children cared for while they worked. She said it barely made it worth the job in most cases. She was going to find something different, but said she wouldn't enjoy it. I had gone home that night after managing to get her middle name and date of birth and ran a background check on her. Once I was sure she wasn't a felon and didn't have anything in her background that would bother Ranger, I mentioned her as a possibility for the nanny we had needed to hire, but had so far failed to agree on any of the people who had applied.

"She's tough, and she knows how to use a gun," I had said. "What more could we want out of someone taking care of our child? Plus, she can have her own child here with her and won't have to worry about daycare."

Ranger had known he was fighting a losing battle and gave into my persistence. I had practically skipped up to her hospital room the next day to offer her the job. She had initially been elated, but then realized that she didn't have a car and that the buses didn't come to our neighborhood. She would be forced to walk several blocks from the nearest bus stop. I told her we could either lend her a car, or she could move into our guest house until she was on her feet. I hadn't run either thing by Ranger, but knew he would agree that we had no other option if we wanted her as our nanny. LaShay had cried and hugged me, saying she was so thankful that she had met me and that she would love to take the job. In the end, she lived in the guest house with Valentino and used an extra Rangeman vehicle for several months until she got her own place a few miles away. A year after they moved into their apartment, Tank had moved in with them. I had played matchmaker against Ranger's warning that it would be awkward if they broke up, but thankfully they had been a great match. They had gotten married a year and half ago, and were talking about having a baby together. LaShay she loved our children like they were her own and ran our house like an Admiral ran a ship while Ranger and I were at work. Somewhere along the way, she and her son had become part of our family. Tino and Sera were best friends and went to the same preschool. Stella helped LaShay cook and they told each other silly stories, and Matthew was never in need of anything because she always anticipated what he would want. At some point, she had stopped working for us and we had started working for her because we had been warned before leaving on our flight to not keep _her babies_ up past their bedtimes or she'd kick our asses because they'd be nightmares trying to get back into their routine.

I was distracted from my musings and Morelli by the sound of Sera yelling for me as she came into the lobby. She was breathless and excited as she grabbed the hem of my shirt.

"Mommy, guess what? Stella got in trouble," she said in a sing-song voice, the gleam in her eye similar to one I had always had whenever I thought Valerie was going to be in trouble with our parents.

"Who got on to her?" I asked, confused. She had been with Ranger all day while I had helped my mother. I had brought Matthew because he was still nursing, but Ranger had been bringing the girls later after they had dinner.

"Daddy did," she said. "He had to use his mean voice and he called her Stella Claire Manoso."

I hoped my oldest child wasn't hallucinating. "That seems hard to believe," I said. I looked over at Morelli, who was looking at Sera with an odd expression. "Stella is a daddy's girl. She has never been in trouble with him a day in her life. I'm going to need to go straight to the source on this one."

"But it's true!" Sera said fervently and stomped her foot.

"Okay, Sera. Go play in the other room with your cousins," I said. I watched as she ran off into the private family area attached to slumber room one.

Seconds later, my three-year-old doppelganger stomped through the room, arms crossed and lips pouting as she followed her sister's retreating back. I watched as Ranger came into the room and kept an eye on Stella as she disappeared into the family room. Matthew started to squeal and squirm as he reached for his father. Ranger took him, and Matthew snuggled against his face and tried to give him slobbery kisses.

"Did Stella really get in trouble with you?" I asked.

"Yes. She kept taking Sera's iPad and I was tired of hearing them argue," he replied. He nodded to Morelli, who nodded back in that way men do when they don't like each other, but know kicking one another's ass isn't appropriate in the moment.

I smiled and put an arm on his back. "It's killing you, isn't it? I always figured the only way Stella would be in trouble with you is if she killed someone and left the crime scene too messy."

Morelli snorted with suppressed laughter.

"I had to do it," Ranger said, and I knew he was having to convince himself more than me.

"Yes, you did," I told him. "Stay strong. Don't buy her a puppy or take her for ice cream. She'll stop hating you eventually."

"Do you remember what happened when Sera stole her doll and wouldn't give it back? She cut her hair while she slept. Four days later. The child holds a grudge."

That incident had happened a month ago. I had promptly hidden all scissors and discovered our sweet Stella had another layer to her personality that we were just starting to see. We would have to get her to use that force for good.

Morelli laughed and pulled his ringing cell phone out of his pocket. "Maybe I'm glad I don't have kids with you," he told me. "It sounds like you have your hands full." He ignored the phone call. "My soon-to-be-ex-wife," he explained. "She left town without her children, so she can wait a few hours more to talk to them." We said goodbye to Morelli as he was summoned by his mother and made our way across the lobby to check in on the girls.

"He stinks," Ranger commented, referring to Matthew. I handed him the diaper bag. "Oh, really? Here, you can change him," I suggested. He gave me a look that said he knew he was being played, but didn't argue.

I watched as my boys walked away towards the men's room and still felt a little amazed at my life. I had been confident that Ranger would be a decent father. I had figured there would be plenty of areas where he would struggle and I would pick up the slack, but didn't mind because I knew he would do the same for me. What had surprised both of us was not only how terrific he was at being a father, but how much he loved it. The first day he had gone back to work after Sera was born, he had called or texted to check on her every hour. He had already made plans to cut back his hours at the office once she was born, but ended up making even more drastic cuts once he realized how much he missed her while he was gone. He and Stella had bonded so well because I had experienced a severe bout of postpartum depression after having her. It had gotten so bad that I had been forced to go into a treatment facility for two weeks until I was stabilized on an antidepressant and set up with a counselor. He had taken care of her when I wasn't able to get out of bed. LaShay had tried to stay extra hours, but he had always sent her home and managed both girls on his own while I couldn't have cared if I lived or died. I had always felt guilty about my depression and worried that it had kept me from bonding with Stella. Ranger had assured me that she was bonded with me, but that they were just closer because they had similar personalities.

We hadn't planned on having Matthew. Ranger had undergone a vasectomy and had been told that we would need to keep using back up birth control until all stored sperm was depleted. We had done fine, except the night of Tank's and LaShay's wedding. I had been horny and encouraged him to pull over so we could get busy without the worry that a little girl would knock on the bedroom door wanting a drink. We hadn't used a condom, thinking we were out of the woods. It was Ranger who told me I was pregnant two weeks later, citing my swelling breasts and abdomen. I had called him a dirty rotten liar, peed on the stick, and sobbed on the bathroom floor for two hours after it came up positive. I had been terrified of another bout of depression, and had been enormously relieved when it hadn't happened. But we knew for sure that Matthew would be our last, and I was thankful for our lapse that night. Matthew was the sweetest of our children and we loved having a little boy after two girls.

Stella had gotten over her pout as she built a tower of blocks with Valerie's youngest daughter, and I was sure she would be all over Ranger that evening at bedtime, insisting he read her bedtime stories in Spanish even though they were written in English. I heard Matthew jabbering at Ranger as they came back to the lobby and Ranger was responding in Spanish. I had been trying to learn Spanish as our kids learned it, but hadn't caught on nearly as well. The girls could have entire conversations with him and I would only catch every other word. Matthew squealed when he saw me and decided to wanted to be with me again.

"There's my handsome boy," I cooed as I took him back. Motherhood had turned me into a simpering idiot at times, but since I was able to keep it limited to the kids, I didn't think it was too big of a deal.

"I used to be your handsome boy," Ranger said. "Then I made my own competition." He stood next to me while we watched the girls play. "Morelli's still in love you."

"No he isn't," I said. "Maybe there was a little nostalgia, but not love. Not after this long."

"He was looking at you the same way I look at you," he murmured as a group of Morelli relatives passed by. "If he thought you'd run away with him tonight, he would do it."

I let out a gasp and gave Matthew an excited look. "Did you hear that, Matthew? We could run away with Morelli! Let's go pack our bags. We'll leave the girls with Daddy."

Ranger gave my ass a firm pinch. "Funny."

We made our way back to the slumber room where Grandma Mazur lay in the pink casket with a large arrangement of flowers on top. She had an open casket so that everyone could look at her. Her hairdresser had taken care of her hair and make-up for the funeral, insisting that Grandma wouldn't have it any other way. She looked pretty good in death.

"Has word gotten out about how she died?" Ranger asked as we stood to one side of the room.

"Not that I'm hearing. My mother seems to have kept a lid on it," I said. When she had called me to say Grandma Mazur had died, she had been hysterical. Not only because her mother was dead, but because Grandma had died while having sex with her seventy-four-year-old boyfriend, Moe.

"I think she would want people to know she went out with a bang," he said with a smirk. "I know it's how I hope to go."

"I don't," I said. "Especially if I haven't finished and have to roll your dead body off me."

"I'll make sure we both finish before I drop dead," he commented.

"Thank you."

Various relatives approached us and talked about how adorable our children were, asked Ranger about his business, and talked about how different the Burg would be without Grandma Mazur. As we hauled three sleepy children out of the funeral home at nine that evening, I was reminded of Grandma Mazur's encouragement of my relationship with Ranger. She had been the only one to ever support it before we got married and had given me plenty of sound advice in the years since. I started to cry as Ranger drove us towards the office.

"I'm going to miss Grandma," I said quietly, not wanting to wake our sleeping children. "She was the only person in my family who ever really understood me."

Ranger reached over to hold my hand. "Me too. She made life interesting."

I gave a watery laugh. "I'm probably going to end up like her one day."

"I'm already prepared for it."

I squeezed his hand, thankful to have a husband who loved me unconditionally. Even when he knew I was going to turn into a crazy old lady someday.


End file.
